Sorceries, Soul-Shards and Silly Stories - HP Drafts and Ideas
by HighValour
Summary: Splintered off from Chaos In The Cosmos, all my past -and future- Harry potter drabbles, early drafts and plot bunnies in one location. Rated M as due to unknown future content.
1. Old Legacy Alt chapter

_**TRANSFERRED OVER FROM CHAOS IN THE COSMOS – OLD WORK.**_

 _ **Been a long time since I worked on anything related to Legacy, last couple of chapters got reviews and comments that left me thinking about how the story is developing and I've been thinking on that. Should start working on chapter 14 proper over the long weekend, with a bit of luck. Anyway I thought I'd get back into the swing of things by trying my hand at the first chapter of the alterative plot I'd considered doing… Fair warning to people, this may contain what could be mistaken as the beginning of a Harry/Hermione ship [I don't ship anyone and I'm not planning to start].**_

 _ **Like always, I really need feedback on these so I can find out what people like/dislike and so I can work out what areas I need to improve on. So please, review. Another chapter, another attempt to entertain you all. I honestly do not have anything else to add, so on with the show!**_

 _ **'Harry Potter' belongs to J K Rowling.**_

 _ **'Legacy of Kain' belongs to Crystal Dynamics.**_

 _ **XXXXX**_

XX Platform Nine and Three Quarters (September First) XX

As Harry emerged from the side-chamber that housed the King's Cross floo entrance he brushed some ash from his cloak and tried to keep his lunch down. Magical transport never agreed with him and Harry didn't feel to fond of the floo or portkeys either. Taking his trunk, and Glaucus' cage, from Kreacher Harry bid his only true friend farewell and began to shove his way through the slowly growing crowd surrounding the enchanted muggle train.

"Watch it." Harry snapped as he bumped into a bushy hair girl in muggle clothing. Not bothering to wait, and ignoring the muttered words about his rudeness, Harry boarded the train and set out in search for a carriage. After struggling for a moment to stow his case harry slumped down next to the window and closed his eyes, only to snap them open when Glaucus let out a sharp shriek. "Ugh, what? You want to fly to Scotland? Alright, off you go."

No sooner had his owl set northward then Harry had the window closed and the blind drawn down to dim the light and ease his slowly growing headache. Tilting his head to the side Harry listened to the mass of students and parents as they said their goodbyes and parted, some clambering onto the train and others retreating back to wave teary farewells. As he slowly drifted off to sleep the compartment's door slide open and the girl, now dressed in the unadorned robes of an unsorted First Year, entered.

"Sorry can I sit here?" She asked as she dragged her trunk in and sat down.

"You already have." Harry pointed out, not opening his eyes or bothering to show any other sign that he acknowledged her presence. Shifting slightly in his seat, trying to get comfy and sleep, Harry tried to ignore the girl but her constant fidgeting about caused the seat to squeak and her robes to rustle. Growling to himself harry opened his eyes and fixed her with his best glare. "Can't you sit still for five minutes?"

"I've only been here for a minute." The girl defended, her voice was high pitched and had a 'little know-it-all' twang to it. "And what's wrong with your eyes?"

"Nothing's wrong with my eyes." Harry huffed although he quickly looked to the compartment door's small window to check his reflection. Seeing that they were still their normal tarnished gold, and that he only had two, Harry stared accusingly at the girl. "What's wrong with my eyes?"

"They're yellow and that's not normal." The girl said matter of factly and in a tone that made Harry thing he should feel dumb for not know that yellow isn't normal.

"Maybe not for the muggles, but you'll find that my eyes are far from rare in Our World." Harry challenged with hints of superiority in his tone and his emphasis on 'Our World', he may not agree with his estranged family on all subjects but there was a definite 'them and us' to his world view.

"Your world?" The girl repeated with a wonderfully amusing look of confusion on her face. "What do you mean your world?"

"Witches and wizards, of course." Harry said bluntly as he rooted through his trunk for a book. "Far more interesting than the muggles… Your parents are muggle, right?"

"Yes, they're dentists." The girl answered, not quiet catching his tone of voice and apparently thinking that the word dentists would mean something to him. "Your parents are magic then?"

"My mother was the head of one of the oldest, and wealthiest, Pureblood families in all of England." Harry said after a moment of silence. "Now I am… I guess."

"Your mother was… Oh, oh I'm sorry." The girl said as she worked out what he'd meant. What followed was the kind of awkward silence that comes about because someone mentioned something they didn't know they should have. The silence continued as the train pulled out of the station and began its long trek north.

Harry enjoyed the silence, a chance to lose himself in his school books and keep his mind off his family. Shortly after he'd stopped talking the girl had retrieved a book of her own, Hogwarts: A History, and started reading up on the school and world she was now part of. The two sat there, not speaking a word to one another, for some time before the compartment door opened and a small blond boy poked his head in.

"S-sorry but did either of you see a toad?" The boy asked as he looked between Harry and the girl.

"No." Harry said in a tone that implied he wanted to add 'now go away' to the end of his sentence.

"Oh, sorry." The boy said as his face fell. "Oh no, I've lost him… Gran's going to get annoyed now."

"Why would your granny care about a toad?" Harry couldn't help but ask, looking up from his book and staring at the boy in confusion.

"He was a gift from my great-uncle Algie." The boy said before crouching down and looking under the seats. "And now I can't find him."

"Don't worry, we'll help you find him." The girl said as she stood up and smiled, although the smile turned into a scowl directed at Harry after he snorted loudly and turned the page of his Potions textbook. "Well I'll help you look."

"Good riddance." Harry yawned once the compartment was empty. Getting up to swap his Potions book for his Charms text Harry looked at the door and thought for a minute before letting out a sigh and following the two out of the compartment. Stopping the first student he passed, a tall Hufflepuff, Harry asked if the boy knew the Summoning Charm.

"Yeah, why?" The boy asked as he and Harry moved to allow a group of Ravenclaws to pass.

"There's a first year wondering around looking for his lost toad, I'll give you five galleons if you'll find him and summon the damn thing." Harry answered before fishing the coins out of his robes. "Deal?"

"Alright." The boy shrugged before taking the coins and setting off in search of the toadless First Year.

Making his way back to his compartment, and deciding to read something other than his Charms book, Harry rooted out a copy of Dark Defence. While 'The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection' was a good source of the basics, Harry preferred the case studies and example that Lyesmith had included in his work as it made understanding the topic easier. That the text was considered standard reading for Aurors also helped make it appealing. Opening the book and starting on the chapter dedicated to curses, Harry let time slip away.

"You know, that was a nice thing you did for Neville." A voice said, taking Harry out of his book and alerting him to the girl's return.

"For who?" Harry asked while he wondered when the witch with the snacks would come around.

"For Neville, the boy who'd lost his toad." The girl said as she settled down into her seat. "His name's Neville Longbottom, we introduced ourselves while looking for Trevor."

"…Longbottom?" Harry muttered before going to the compartment doors and checking if the boy, Neville, was still around. "I'll remember that and avoid the boy from now on."

"Why would you avoid him?" The girl asked, she seemed to ask a lot of questions, as Harry returned to his seat.

"The Longbottoms and the Blacks aren't on the best of terms at the moment… Not sure if they hate us more or less than the Lestrange family." Harry explained as he sat down and turned to look out the window. "Bad things from the war, wounds still fresh and all that."

"Your family fought against the Death Eaters?" The girl asked, excitement in her voice. "I've read about all about the Dark Lord and his defeat by the young Darren Potter, I met him earlier on the train actually."

"No my family was neutral, but leaned in favour of the Death Eaters and their dark lord." Harry told her, smirking slightly at the shocked expression on her face when he did. "One cousin was neutral but would have supported the Ministry, she married a muggleborn, while my other two cousins sided with Voldemort… One is serving life in Azkaban for crimes in his name, crimes against the Longbottom family."

"How could your family do that to innocent people?" The girl gasped in shock.

"Ask them, they did it." Harry said dismissively. "Harry Black did nothing in the War and has nothing to answer for."

"Well I … that's true you did nothing, but why would your family do those kinds of things?" The girl asked.

"Why do the muggles do the same?" Harry countered. "Muggles kill, torture and discriminate against their own all the time. The Wizarding World is just smaller, so it seems worse."

"Oh." The girl said softly before falling silent for a while. "So… Your name's Harry?"

"Huh… I am Harold J. Black, adoptive son to Walburga Black and Head of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black." Harry introduced himself. "We are one of the oldest, wealthiest, and through blood and ancestry, magical families in all of Britain."

"Really? How old is your family? Have any of your family done great deeds? You must know all kinds of impressive magic." The girl fired off in quick succession, asking questions and making statements at a pace Harry found difficult to follow. It was almost two whole minutes before she stopped talking long enough for Harry to ask her own name, just to be polite. "Oh, I'm Hermione Granger."

"Hi." Harry said simply, unsure if she'd start into another barrage of questions. Quickly debating with himself Harry decided to try a proper conversation with her, as interacting with a muggleborn would help with future meetings between himself and Ted. "Have you read up anything about our world?"

"Oh yes, I've read Hogwarts: A History and practiced a few simple spells to get ready." Hermione said happily. "I'd imagine you know much more magic, growing up in a Wizarding household."

"Mother ensured I was taught the basics of most magical branches, preparing me for Hogwarts where I would be above the other students." Harry admitted, bragged really, before trying to think of something else to talk about. "Eh… So how much that that book teach you about the school?"

"Oh lots, did you know that the ceiling of the Great Hall is bewitched to match the sky outside? Or that it is impossible for anyone to Apparate or Disapparate on school grounds?" Hermione told him. "It explained that the entire school is enchanted to look like an old ruin to muggles and has strong wards to make sure no one comes close… Muggle technology won't work too close to the school either as the magic in the air interferes with the technology."

"I didn't about muggle things not working." Harry said as she took a breath of air before continuing.

"I know that Albus Dumbledore is the Headmaster and he was an important figure in the war against the Death Eaters" Hermione went on, seemingly delighted to be talking to someone around her age that didn't mind that she knew things. "Students are divided into four houses, each named after the four founders of Hogwarts. I've read up on all of them and think I'll be in Ravenclaw, which would be nice, but I'd love to be in Gryffindor."

"Why would you want to be a Gryffindor?" Harry snorted, he'd heard about Gryffindor and didn't think too highly of them.

"Well Albus Dumbledore was a Gryffindor and so were so many other famous wizards and witches, I'd love to follow them." Hermione admitted, looking a little sheepish. "Where do you want to go, which House do you want to be in?"

"So you'd base where you'll spend the next seven years on where other people studied and not on which house you would do best in?" Harry laughed. "That's a stupid reason to want to be a Gryffindor… So I guess you'd fit right in, wouldn't you?"

"Hey that's not fair!" Hermione snapped. "And what's wrong with being in Gryffindor?"

"Oafs that lot, they tend to be pushy, conceited, and overly self-confident and oh so convinced that they knew best." Harry spat. "I'd settle for Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff but never Gryffindor."

"And what House would you like?" Hermione challenged.

"Slytherin, the home of the cunning and determined." Harry said proudly. "The Blacks have almost unanimously been sorted into Slytherin, and I he the qualities the House looks for."

"But you're still hoping for it because your family went there?" Hermione pointed out, throwing his own argument back at him. "You want to be a Slytherin because your family went there and not because it's the House you'd do best in?"

"I-I… Huh." Harry stuttered before going quiet and ending the conversation.

XX Hogwarts Great Hall XX

The First Years filed in after McGonagall and came to a halt in front of a simple stool with an old worn hat on top of it. Hundreds of candles floated above them and the transparent roof showed off the moon and stars. Professor McGonagall walked forward and produced a sheet of parchment.

"When I call your name, come forward and put on the hat." She informed them before starting alphabetically.

While he waited for his name to be called Harry turned his attention to the Staff Table, scanning if for those he knew off. At one end was the huge man Hagrid. Moving further along was a sallow-skinned man with messy hair, Severus Snape the Potions Master. A few seats past him was Albus Dumbledore himself, Harry moved quickly past him while avoiding catching his eye. The next, and final, person Harry knew of had dark red hair that fell to her shoulders. It seemed Dumbledore had given Lily Potter a position at Hogwarts.

"Black, Harry!" Professor McGonagall called, summoning Harry forward so he could be sorted. Handing the old hat to him as he approached, Harry sat and donned the ancient and tattered cloth.

"Hmmm, curious…. Oh so curious." A soft voice whispered in Harry's ear, almost inaudible. "You've got courage. And a good mind, so much knowledge lying in wait to be unlocked. I can feel it all, it hungers for a wielder. But even deeper there lays cleverness, resourcefulness, determination and a seed of greatness… No, not a seed but a plant. Withered and dormant but waiting for the nourishment to grow strong once more. But, but I sense another seed… A seed of doubt, of uncertainty."

"I don't know, do I want Slytherin for myself or because my family goes there?" Harry muttered, low enough for just the hat to hear. "What do you think, oh magical talking hat?"

"Snide remarks won't earn you points with me boy." The Hat warned. "I'll dig a little deeper but I can already tell you where you should go… Yes, yes determination and drive. Cunning and cleverness… And knowledge, my lord so much knowledge. Power and secrets just lying here, locked away in the mind of a childe just waiting to awaken. You want power, boy? Real power, don't you? Then I'll give you it, send you to where they know that knowledge is real power. The place to best relearn your lessons once more… IS RAVENCLAW!"

 _ **XXXXX**_

 _ **Main change between this version and normal is that in Slytherin Harry is surrounded by the belief in Tradition and stability [new and different bad] and that showing exploitable weaknesses is bad while here knowledge and the pursuit of would be what his House teaches him… And that can lead to some very bad things happening.**_

 _ **Square Enix has registered a domain linked to the Legacy of Kain series, warfornosgoth, hinting that we may see a sequel or reboot sometime in the future so Happy Days!**_

 _ **I'm dyslexic, so please point out any mistakes in spelling or grammar [I spell things the way they do in England and Ireland, so some things may look off to Americans]. Please leave your opinion via review or send them via PM, I'd like to know what you think. Well, I think that's everything I've gotta say so, hope you enjoyed the chapter.**_

 _ **This is Highvalour saying bye and thanks for reading.**_


	2. The Devil Inside (HP-DmC)

_**Like always, I really need feedback on these so I can find out what people like/dislike and so I can work out what areas I need to improve on. So please, review. Another chapter, another attempt to entertain you all. I honestly do not have anything else to add, so on with the show!**_

 _ **Harry Potter Belongs To J.K Rowling**_

 _ **DMC Belongs To Capcom**_

 _ **XXXXX**_

XX Chamber of Secrets; Beneath Hogwarts, Scotland - 1993 XX

Harry flailed the Sword of Gryffindor at Slytherin's Basilisk in a panic. Although the creature had been blinded by Fawkes' attack, rendering its lethal gaze worthless, the snake was still nearly sixty feet long and looked big enough to eat him whole and as fancy as the sword was it was still just a scrawny twelve year old trying to kill the so-called 'King of Serpents' with it.

As Fawkes dived in again at the Basilisk the creature lashed out and collided with the firebird, sending Fawkes sailing across the chamber and into one of the thick stone pillars.

"And there goes your guardian bird, Potter." Tom Riddle's spectre mocked as he watched the fight. Riddle knew Potter had no chance but didn't really care if the creature was hurt since its sole purpose was to delay and buy time for him to finish draining the Weasley girl of her life-force. With a sigh Riddle decided to offer 'encouragement'. **"Hurry up, bite him you worthless worm!"**

" **Kill!"** The Basilisk hissed before lunging forward in an attempt to bite Harry's head clean off.

"Gah!" Harry yelped as he dove to the side, barely managing to avoid the fangs but losing his grip on the sword. Getting to his feet Harry had maybe a second before the snake caught him in its powerful jaws, the dagger like fangs easily punching through his ribcage and piercing his organs. Turning his head a fraction to his right Harry gazed into the bloody and empty eye socket of the basilisk. As the venom poured into his system, it hurt for a second before Harry went numb, the Boy-Who'd-Lived managed to say the only thing that popped into his head. "Oh."

"Do you see the mistake you made Potter? You dared to challenge the greatest sorcerer to ever exist!" Riddle's spirit laughed as the basilisk released him from its grip and left him waited for its venom to do its work. "And now, now you die. Die just like that mudblood whore mother and blood traitor father of yours!"

"Mistake… Greatest… Die." Harry muttered as his vision grew dark and his mind emptied. As the world faded away the numbness gave way to an itch, an itch in his bites and a growing fire in his muscles.

 _ **X**_

Tom Marvolo Riddle, or at least a fragment of his sixteen year old self's soul, smirked as Potter was released from the basilisk's grip and fell to his knees. That wretched boy had ruined his future. Had toppled the height of Wizarding potential as a child but he'd fixed that, proven that a baby with no extraordinary magical talent was only able to defeat Lord Voldemort through sheer dumb luck. Luck he didn't have this time. Turning his back to the boy Riddle took aim at the slowly recovering phoenix.

"Avada Kedavra!" He cast with this stolen wand, unknowingly striking down the very phoenix that had provided the core for the wand and his own. As the phoenix burst into flames and reverted to its infant form Tom called out to his basilisk. **"Eat Potter and then do something with the phoenix."**

" **Feed."** The basilisk hissed before slithering towards its meal. As Riddle was crouching down over his diary, preparing to take the final spark of life from the worthless brat, he heard the basilisk hiss out in revulsion. **"Cambion! Vile, impure, disgusting!"**

" **What are you doing!?"** Riddle roared as he rounded on the creature and found it reared up and away from Potter's body. Turning to the corpse Riddle nearly dropped his new wand in shock. The body was spasming and releasing clouds of thin red mist. Moving slowly closer Riddle watched as Potter's hair and skin turned a ghostly shade of white as tiny red veins began to bulge along his face.

As the mist faded Riddle blinked and in that time Potter had managed to get up, move half way across the chamber and begin to throw up. As Potter wiped his mouth and turned Riddle saw his colouring was back to normal but something was wrong, the look in his eyes was that of an animal not a human. The Mist returned, Potter's pigment changed and he was gone.

"H-how?" Riddle gasped as he found Potter, once again normal, gazing in confusion at the Sword of Gryffindor he now held in his hand. Turning to the basilisk and not bothering to hide his fear Riddle screamed. **" Kill him! Kill Him now!"**

 _ **X**_

Harry's head was empty, numb and disorientated. His body ached with sporadic bursts of burning agony and chilling numbness rippling across his frame. Things faded in and out of view as his ears strained to hear anything in the soundless void the chamber seemed to have become.

His stomach lurched, foul tasting bile forcing its way up his throat and Harry was bent over as he vomited up the contents of his stomach mixed with a worrying amount of blood.

" **\- Cambion! Kill Potter Now!"** Tom Riddle's voice cut through the din, taking with it the low growling of the Basilisk and weak chirping of Fawkes.

Turning to face the source of Riddle's voice Harry realised he was somehow carrying the Sword of Gryffindor when the blade scraped along the ground at his feet. Facing the towering mass of scales and fangs Harry didn't know what to do. His head was pounding, pressure behind his eyes and aches in his joints. He could hardly see and it was a miracle he managed to twist himself to the side as the serpent lunged. Even more so as the creature's mouth caught the tip of the blade, its mass and momentum failing to rip the sword from his hand, and cut itself from jaw to tail-tip.

" **Cambion, vile beast!"** The Basilisk snarled, spraying putrid blood as it did so, and coiled itself in preparation for another lunge. **"Kill! Rip and tear it, but won't eat. Won't die to monster!"**

As the Basilisk came at him again, time slowed. It was only for an instant and instinct, the same feeling that made him such a good seeker on the pitch, had Harry dive forward and under the fanged maw. Hitting the ground and rolling aside, Harry found himself just behind the thing's head as it turned.

Snarling in fury Harry drove the sword down atop the snake's head with all his might. There was a worrying crack followed by a disgusting squelch as the blade broke through the skull and embedded itself in brain. Huffing and panting Harry tried to pull the sword free but couldn't.

"Hahaha… Well done Potter. You remind me of the murals of St. George as slayed the dragon." The Shade of Tom Riddle mocked before levering Harry taken wand at him. "But a sword's no good against me. Now Die, Avada Kedavra!"

The sickly green magic caught Harry square in the chest and it felt like a red-hot lance had been driven through him as it struck. Falling to his knees a disconnected part of Harry's mind wondered why he was in pain, the Killing Curse was meant to be instant. As the pain died away something, like clawing inside his ribcage, took its place. Ignoring the pain and trying to force himself up, Harry was struck by another Killing Curse.

"What…? Wow? How are you still alive?" Riddle's shade demanded to know as he fired off a third curse at the still struggling to rise Harry. "Gah, ha… Wha-WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU?!"

With each curse the clawing became worse, whatever it was wanted out more and more as magic rippled across Harry's body. The next curse, the sixth in total, to strike him was met by a shockwave of raw power as Harry felt the thing in his chest stop. The shockwave tossed the Shade, the diary, Ginny's limp form and even the mighty Basilisk's corpse back just before the world faded to grey. Time seemed to slow as a blinding fury overtook Harry and, without effort, the Sword of Gryffindor was ripped free. Snarling with bloodlust Harry rushed forward, closing the distance between himself and the frozen from of young Lord Voldemort in the blink of an eye and drove the sword into the shade's corporealised body.

"Ugh… W-What happened?" The shade gasped as the nearly completed body began dissolving away. "The snake… my Basilisk called you a cambion… What is that?"

"I… I… I don't know." Harry admitted as the older boy faded away. Dropping the sword and backing away, Harry began to panic. How was he alive? Why didn't he hurt from the Basilisk attack? His glasses where missing, why could he see?

Where was Ginny?

With something to focus on, Harry tore his mind away from the questions that threatened to devour him and began frantically searching the Chamber. A streak of red, adrift in the large pool at Slytherin's feet, caught his eye and had Harry wading into the water. She'd landed on her back, thankfully, but was still cold and unresponsive. Without noticing how light she felt Harry easily lifted and carried her out of the water. As his soaking feet traipsed across the chamber- splat, splat, splat- Harry started to panic again.

He was stuck down here, with the cave in and Fawkes nowhere in sight and –

"Boy!" A disgruntled voice yelled from the direction of the Basilisk's corpse. "Boy is it over? What the devil happened?"

Walking around the corpse and looking about Harry would have failed to spot the worn brown cloth lying near the chamber wall if the Sorting Hat hadn't decided to yell again.

"Dammit boy, are you there?" The Sorting yelled again, furious at having been discarded earlier to lie 'face' down and be unable to see anything. "Did you win? Is the beast dead? What was that burst of magic?"

"I-I'm here." Harry said softly as set Ginny down gently and reached out to pick up the hat.

"Good, good then. Beastie killed? Tom Riddle dead? Good." The Hat said as Harry's hand closed around it. The Hat felt oddly warm. "Huh… Do you feel something?"

"S-Something's wrong with Ginny." Harry told the hat as he turned it so the 'face' was facing him. "Can you help?"

"I know I'm a magical hat but if I could heal the injured do you think I'd spend all year sitting in Professor Dumbledore's office?" The Hat spat in a tone very similar to Aunt Petunia's 'Stupid Boy' voice. "But I guess I could have a look under the hood, as the muggles say, and see if I can find out what's the problem… Put me on her head."

Propping Ginny up against his knee Harry slipped the hat on over her head and waited. The Hat 'hummed' and 'ohhed' a few times before finding the problem.

"Something is draining her life-force!" The Hat spat in horror. "Quick boy, find whatever is doing it and stop it. Quickly!"

Whipping his head back and forth trying to see what was killing her Harry remembered Riddle's words about the diary, that had to be it. Running about, searching for the diary, Harry spent close to ten minutes looking as the Hat yelled for him to hurry up. Spotting the diary lying off to the side a ways ahead Harry rushed towards it.

CRUNCH!

His glasses, he'd forgotten about them in the search for the dairy. Picking up the twisted wire frames and taking in the cracked or broken lenses Harry tucked them into a pocket and closed in on the diary. He'd panic later.

As his hand closed around the leather bound book Harry felt as if he'd just grabbed a burning coal. Heat burned at his palm and raced up the length of his arm. Whipping his arm away the heat vanished the instant the diary left his grip, the heat fading only for the pressure and clawing in his chest to return.

"Good work boy." The hat called out from its position across the chamber atop of Ginny's head. "Whatever you did, the drain has stopped. She's still too weak to wake up but she won't be getting any worse… We get her to a Healer and she'll be fine."

"T-That's good… J… Just let me grab the diary and we can try and get out of here." Harry called back.

 _ **X**_

XX Headmaster's Office; Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland XX

To save that Albus Dumbledore was nervous would be an understatement, he may have appeared outwardly calm but Dumbledore had not felt this worried since he had sensed the protective charms on the Potter's hidden cottage fail. The Board of Governors had called for him, Arthur's youngest child had been taken by the Heir, and they hoped he could end the reign of terror once and for all.

"I'm sorry, Minerva, but could you repeat that?" Dumbledore said slowly as he tried to process what he'd just been told.

"Gilderoy has disappeared and both Mr. Potter and young Mr. Weasley are missing as well." Minerva McGonagall told him in a low tone, it wouldn't do to worry Arthur and Molly any more than necessary.

"Best case scenario; Harry and Mr. Weasley have taken Gilderoy with them on the rescue mission I'm sure they have launched…" Dumbledore said slowly, the worst case of Gilderoy having transfigured them into matches and tossed them out a window went unsaid. Sending Minerva off to coordinate the rest of the staff in the search Dumbledore made his way over to the sobbing Molly and Arthur. "Molly, Arthur we are doing everything we-"

"Professor Dumbledore, professor Dumbledore!" A small voice squeaked as one of the castle's house-elves popped into existence beside him. " Hooky is very sorry for interrupting but there is a ghost who is wanting to speak with you. Says it very important."

"Hooky this is not a good time, please tell the Friar I'll fix whatever issue he has with the way the kitchen prepares food another time." Dumbledore said. On any other day, when there was not crisis to distract them, those still in the Headmaster's office would have commented on the strange paradox of Dumbledore's distinctive Grandfatherly voice carrying such a dismissive and frustrated tone.

"It not the Fat Friar, Professor Dumbledore sir, this ghost is looking like a student. Says she was sent to get help for Harry Potter and Ron Weasley down in the -" Hooky began only to be barrelled over my Molly Weasley, who was rushing towards the door to Dumbledore's office, the second her son's name was said.

Quickly dispelling the Anti-Ghost charms that kept the Headmaster's office, and the connected private quarters, warded against uninvited guests Dumbledore called for the ghost to enter. The instant young, in appearance anyway, Myrtle phased through the door Molly was there demanding to know where her son was.

"The girl's bathroom on the First Floor." Myrtle said, rather taken aback by Molly all but manhandling her for answers.

"Are you sure?" Arthur asked as he joined his wife, fear and concern for his children radiating off the man.

"Yes I'm sure, I was just talking to them." Myrtle snapped. "Something's happened and they can't get out of the Chamber… I can't go down, I think it has anti-ghost spells on it, but I could hear them calling up."

"Lead the way." Dumbledore commanded, Elder Wand withdrawn and ready. With Myrtle leading them Dumbledore and the Weasleys rushed across the school. Arriving at the bathroom in question Dumbledore sent in several pulses of magic, trying to detect any threats or dangers.

"The sinks over there open up." Myrtle told them, gesturing towards a collection of sinks arranged around a small column. "But Harry had to talk funny to open it."

"I see… Reducto!" Dumbledore's spell turned ceramic, glass and piping into powder. As the dust cleared a massive pipe, far too big to be part of the school's plumbing, was revealed.

 _ **X**_

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore slumped into the high backed chair that sat behind his desk and let out a satisfied groan of contentment. The past month had been rather draining - between meetings with the Unspeakables concerning the Diary, speaking with members of the DMLE about Gilderoy and the Chamber, checking in on Saint Mungo's to learn how young Ms Weasley was doing and trying to run damage control once Fudge foolishly released the information that Tom had employed some kind of dark artefact that could possess individuals to the public – and this evening was the first time Albus had the time to just sit and catch his breath.

Minevra, bless her, had covered all aspects of the School Year so he'd been free to remain at the Ministry. Before this evening Albus had only taken five minutes to deal with the forms that saw him reinstated as Headmaster and saw Lucius removed from the Board of Governors.

But now, the students were gone home and the Unspeakables had taken a moment's rest from dragging him down to observe their study of the 'unknown dark object'. That Mercer fellow had recognised it as a Horcrux, Albus was sure, but had said nothing… That was worrying and Albus felt he would be wise to keep an eye on him.

A weak 'cawing' brought Albus' attention to Fawkes' perch, where the young phoenix chick sat. The majestic firebird was slowly recovering from his encounter with both a basilisk and Tom's spectre but growing to maturity took several months and Albus knew Fawkes hated being so weak and immobile. Looking to the chick fruitlessly flapping wings in an attempt to take flight caused Albus to turn to the matter of young Harry.

The boy had gone through, what Albus couldn't help but presume to be, a traumatic experience. The blood and tears in his robes told of injuries only Fawkes could heal. The revelation that Tom had been like that, even as a child, must also have come as such a shock. Minerva said Harry had retreated into himself somewhat, spending much of his time secluded in the Library and even avoiding young Ms. Granger following the girl's successful de-petrifying. Making a decision, Albus decided he would visit The Dursley home first thing in the morning and speak with Harry. Albus would offer an empathic shoulder and give Harry a chance to speak with someone who sadly had similar revelations regarding the darker aspects of humanity.

Rising from his chair Albus made for his bedchambers but a faint glowing rune in the ash of his fireplace stopped him dead. The rune signified an attempt at contact by Arabella Figg. Ignoring the lateness of the hour, the rudeness of simply flooing into a person's home unannounced and the dangers of flooing unannounced into a home containing Kneazles Albus snapped up a pinch of powder and vanished in a plume of emerald flame.

XX Wisteria Walk, Little Whinging – England XX

The few struggling embers in the fireplace of Arabella Doreen Figg exploded to life in a burst of emerald flames as Albus Dumbledore emerged and began shouting.

"Arabella! Arabella! Its Albus, what's happened? Arabella! Ara-gahh, get off you stupid cat!"

The last bit was not something Albus would normally yell in a potential emergency involving the squib he'd asked to stay and watch over Harry but one of the woman's Kneazle/cat hybrids had been startled awake by his arrival and reacted to defend its home and breeder, by digging its impressive set of foreclaws into Albus' calf. Shaking furiously Albus managed to dislodge the filthy beast and launch it halfway across the sitting room, waking Arabella in the process.

"Whose down there?! I-I've called the police… T-they'll be here any moment!"

"Arabella, its Albus." Albus called out, dearly hoping she hadn't contacted the muggle Aurors as it'd mean a few memory modifications on his part and Albus was not as skilled in that particular spell as he was in others. "I've only just seen that you tried to contact me, what's happened?"

"Where have you been!?" Arabella bellowed as she stomped down the stairs. She was furious, she'd been trying to contact him for the past two days and he's only now coming back to her? The nerve, he was the one to set her the task of living in this stifling pit of a neighbourhood watching those insufferable muggles and keeping track of Harry. "I've been trying to contact you for days! What. Where. You doing?!"

"Running damage control for another of Cornelius' screw-ups. What's happened?"

"I don't know." Arabella began. "The Dursleys passed my house on their way back from collecting the boy, I sat down to watch my soaps and then suddenly all those gizmos and doohickies you left to help monitor the wards around their house exploded into dust."

"They exploded?" Dumbledore asked in shock, those monitoring devices were tied into the blood wards and their destruction signalled the destruction of the wards themselves… How hadn't he noticed his own monitoring devices had stopped?

"I went around to the Dursleys, and Albus it looked like a bomb had gone off." Arabella went on. "Windows shattered, walls cracked and furniture broken. Vernon was unconscious, Petunia had a broken arm and the little brat they call a son was screaming at the top of his lungs… No sign of Harry, just a busted school trunk and an injured owl – Albus, I read in the Prophet about You-Know-Who and his artefacts, about how he left so many dangerous things behind, could a Death Eater have used one to get the boy?"

"I… No. Harry is safe and fine, I can feel it." Albus hoped his voice carried the confidence he himself was not feeling.

XX London's East End, January 1998 XX

The group made their way through the backstreets quickly, as if they feared every shadow. The witches and wizards, ranging in age from seventeen to twenty three, had a reason to be moving through the capital of muggle Britain – at least most of them did.

Seventeen year old Tracy Davis was only along because her school friends Daphne Greengrass and Pansy Parkinson had asked/begged! With her grandmother having been a muggleborn – her grandfather had been 'careless' during the celebrations following his OWLs and too honourable not to take responsibility for the resulting son – Tracy was seen as the closest thing Slytherin House had to a 'Muggle Expert'… Never mind that the full extent of her knowledge was that A) one hundred pennies made a pound and B) the Irish are bomb happy!

Tracy wasn't sure how useful the second little bit would be on this mission… See the reason these witches and wizards were in London was because they hoped to learn something, something useful that could be offered to the Dark Lord in exchange for membership of the Knights of Walpurgis – the fearsome Death Eaters. That was how it had been since the Dark Lord's return, potential recruits sent out to gather information on the Muggles – their many vices and occasional virtues – to help further his plans.

What these plans are, no one truly knew. Only that in the time he was gone the Dark Lord had learned much and discovered the key to controlling the masses, but to succeed his plan needed two things – intelligence on the muggles and influence amongst them. That was what the group was meant to do, find out ways the Death Eaters could expand their influence so that the more experienced Death Eaters could act to gain that influence.

"So, explain it again… slowly." Daphne hissed as they stepped under a street light.

"The green notes are five, the orange ones are ten and the-" Tracy began before being cut off.

"I know that bit, it says the number on them, what I don't get is why I'm trying to pay with little pieces of paper!" Daphne hissed.

"Okay look…" Tracy sighed as she slid her glasses down to pinch the bridge of her nose. "You see the pound coin, the one with the coat of arms on it, think of that one like a galleon. Think of the two pound as being worth two galleons… And think of the paper ones like I. . You give the barman one of them and he can exchange it later for the amount of galleons on it… Okay?"

"Yeah… I think so." Daphne replied. "… And, well, thanks for this… I know you aren't really as pro-'You-Know-Who' as Pansy or me and we appreciate it."

"… I get to go out drinking, in a place where I know my overprotective dad doesn't have at least one person watching, and none of the cost is coming out of my allowance." Tracy shrugged.

"Come on you two, we're falling behind." Pansy snapped as she moved to continue on and catch up with the other hopefuls. "I don't want to get lost and not find this 'bat' place."

"Club… it's called a club." Tracy corrected as she adjusted her coat, whose style she'd been assured was the current fashion amongst the muggles, and set off.

"Well I'm sorry I don't have your inside information." Pansy spat back.

"Inside information?" Tracy repeated incredulously. "We were told what it was called by your da- I mean by that Death Eater… Remember, when he handed out the money and explained how it worked?!"

"Stop trying to confuse me with your 'facts' and your 'valid points'." Pansy said half laughing, hoping that if she played it off no one would realise that Tracy said it was her dad who'd dropped them off. Claims of nepotism could cost her her place amongst the Dark Lords followers.

"Girls, I think we're here." Daphne cut in as a small squat building came into view. Standing at the door was a pair of large, balding men in black coats wearing matching scowls.

"Alright girls, this is it." Pansy laughed softly. "Come this time tomorrow everything will be so much better."

 _ **X**_

Pansy Parkinson sat fuming at a small table off to the side of the night club, rubbing her temples as the horrid screeching and flashing lights the muggles insisted on combined to create an unbelievable headache. She had been in the club for a little over an hour and had not succeeded in getting any usable information, even though her dad had told them that this place saw frequent visits from muggle criminals –information on whom the Dark Lord wanted, for some reason.

She tried striking up conversations with the muggles, hoping to catch a hint that would lead her to someone of value, but she'd gotten nowhere. Looking about, and seeing how the others in the group seemed to blend in with the muggles so well, only made her mood worsen.

Daphne it seemed had found a brilliant tactic to get around her own difficulties in talking to the muggles, talking to their fellow would-be Death Eaters. By charming them, both figuratively and literally, Daphne would know all the useful little things they'd found out and only had to report back before they did to earn her place.

Tracy wasn't even trying, just sitting at the bar and drinking… And yet, without even attempting to draw the muggles in, she was in near constant conversation with one or more muggle men. Who all insisted in buying her drinks and talking happily about just about anything she cared to inquire about…

' _This isn't fair, she doesn't even want to join his service!'_ Pansy hissed mentally before a thought struck her. ' _What if it's because I'm trying too hard?_

Making her way to the bar and slipping into an open spot Pansy adopted a neutral, almost bored, expression and signalled for a drink from the staff. And low and behold, within a minute one of the muggles was there by her side chattering and asking to buy her drinks.

' _This is easy.'_ Pansy thought to herself as she tried the cocktail the man, Rob or Bob, had bought her. He seemed a little drunk, and was very chatty, which made learning a few interesting things from him all the easier.

One, a powerful local mobster by the name of Armand 'Old Mal' Comer owned the club and used it as his base of operations.

Two, Rob or Bob or whatever his name was happened to work for Comer.

Three, the man's breath stank of whiskey.

Turning to scan the club Pansy searched for any of the others. Tracy was still sitting at the far end of the bar, having her drinks bought for her by hopeless suitors. Daphne was walking out of a secluded corner, a self-satisfied smirk on her face – the reason for which became apparent as one of their fellow would-be Death Eaters emerged from the corner a few seconds later, a somewhat dazed look on his face.

' _Did… Did she just confound him?'_ Pansy wondered as she watched for classmate through narrowed eyes. Must have slipped up and told her something very useful.

"Here, try this." Rob or Bob said as he slid a new drink over to her. "It's a Johnnie Be Good, you'll love it."

"Oh, thanks." Pansy replied absentmindedly as she tried to work out if the news about this Comer was good enough. As she reached for the cocktail someone bumped her shoulder, causing her to knock the drink off the bar. Turning to glare at the offending party, and give him or her a good telling off, Pansy caught just the tail end of what was being said.

"- waiting for you, get going!"

"Okay, oaky… Chill." Rob/Bob said quickly, clearly worried about annoying the man he was talking to further. Turning to Pansy, he flashed her what must have seemed like a suave grin –It took all of Pansy's self-control not to let her lips curl up in a disgusted sneer. "Don't go anywhere babe, I'll be right back."  
"Sorry about him, bit of an idiot but harmless." The new man grunted as he sat down in Bob/Rob's seat. "What were you drinking, I'll replace it."

"… Johnnie Be Good… I think." Pansy replied, interrupted in her musings as she evaluated the new man.

Bob/Rob clearly knew him, and was beneath him if the man's tone was anything to go by, so she might be able to get more out of him… if she could get him a little drunker.

 _ **X**_

Daphne was grinning like the cat who got the canary when it was time for them to leave, having managed to worm a lot of juicy information out of the other hopeful Death Eaters –which they not fortunately did not know, thank you Imperio/ Obliviate combo – and so was felling very good… Although the few alcoholic beverages she'd consumed may have helped with the buzz she was feeling.

Tracy, who had gained no real information but had indulged in a fair bit of drinking, was equally merry and joined with the others as they departed… No one noticing that Pansy was missing.

XX Apartment Complex, East End of London XX

"Hehehe… I normally wouldn't do this… Go home with some random guy… You know?" Pansy laughed as they entered the apartment.

"Well it isn't my place, I'm just housesitting." He chuckled as he kicked the door closed behind him, as if that made it completely different. "So… eh… You want some food or… I dunno, something to drink?"

"We both know what we're here for." Pansy answered coyly before setting off, a little unsteadily, for what looked to be the bedroom. "Come along Henry."

"... It's Harry, actually!" He said slowly as he watched her go. Standing there for a moment Harry quickly kicked off his shoes and tossed aside his jacket. Following Pansy towards the bedroom

Harry paused at the door, holding it to steady himself – Maybe a little too much of the old spirits had been partaken of earlier – and reached up to scratch at an itch atop his head.

"Eh… I think there's a packet of condoms in the bathroom… I'll grab them while you get comfortable."

"It's fine I have potions." Pansy laughed as she slipped off her expensive, if slightly uncomfortable, shoes and dropped onto the bed. Turning to stare at Harry Pansy was surprised to see his eyes wide with concern and worry.

The man had frozen, eyes wide and hand still in his hair – pushing his fringe up and away from his forehead. It took Pansy's drunken brain more than a few seconds to recognise the distinctive scar above Harry's right eye, and even longer for her to realise she really should draw her wand from her bag and capture him for the Dark Lord. The wand was half out of her purse when he was on her, wrestling it from her grip. In a panic Pansy cast the first spell to enter her head, one she'd read in an old copy of Advanced Potion Making.

Harry jerked back as several deep lacerations, caused by the Sectumsempra spell, opened along his chest and neck. Not caring that her face and top was splattered in blood Pansy rushed out of the room and towards the flat's exit. Had she been a little more sober, a little more clear headed, Pansy might have tried to simply apparate away. Instead she simply ran, which was a mistake.

Pansy had nearly reached the front door when things went black courtesy of a punch to the back of the head from a very angry Harry Potter.

Standing over the knocked out witch, one hand clamped against his still slit throat, Harry panted heavily. The alcohol in his system, mixed with the clawing behind his ribs as the 'thing' inside him was stirred by her magic, served to make his foul mood worse. The worst part was the amount of blood on the bed in his opinion – which was pretty heavily skewed from the alcohol.

Growling, or at least trying what with the slit throat and all, Harry stomped off to the bathroom to clean himself. Once the burning heat in his neck, caused by his body rapidly healing itself, ended he grabbed at towels and began cleaning himself down. Towels, stained dark with his blood, were tossed into the shower to be disposed of later. His blood stained trousers, which he'd really liked, ended up in there as well.

A quick change – old battered work trousers and a dark vest – and Harry set about stripping the bed of its blood stained dressing. After those where dumped into the shower as well Harry started cleaning the blood off the floor… Again, alcohol screws with priorities. Only once he'd cleaned up after himself did it dawn on Harry that there was a still knocked out witch who knew who he was lying not five feet from the door.

With a groan Harry picked Pansy up and made his way back to the bedroom. Dumping her on the still stripped bed Harry went in search of something to bind her with. After a few minutes of fruitless searching Harry managed to find some old rope and a roll of tape. With the witch bound and gagged Harry picked up her purse and retired to the flat's living area.

Flipping on the kettle Harry sat on the couch and emptied the contents of the purse –which was clearly supplied by Mary Bloody Poppins considering how much crap he pulled out of it – onto the coffee table. Small Money bags that contained a deceptively large amount of gold and silver coins, a really big roll of cash –while Harry pocketed-, a number of potions which effects ranged from inducing sleep to freshening ones breath going by their hand written labels and even two full changes of clothes for the witch… But no ID or anything.

"Urgh… What have I gotten myself into?" Harry sighed before picking up the phone and dialling Armand. Or at least he would have if he could remember the god damn squib's number. Yelling in frustration Harry tossed the phone across the room where it shattered against the wall.

Closing his eyes Harry felt the 'Thing' in his chest slowly calm itself, the pain and pressure it induced fading, and weariness catching up with him. Deciding to deal with this shit in the morning Harry slowly drifted off to sleep.

When Harry finally woke up he realised three things: Firstly the mass of crap on the coffee table meant last night hadn't just been some shitty dream. Secondly the wall cloak said it was nearly two in the afternoon and finally the muffled noised coming from the bedroom meant the witch was awake.

Making himself a large, strong mug of tea Harry mentally debating what to do. Finally settling on a plan the runaway wizard/cambion picked the biggest kitchen knife he could find and, stalling only to pick up the witch's wand, made his way to the bedroom.

 _ **X**_

Pansy stopped her struggling when she saw Potter enter the room.

Now sober Pansy could have slapped herself for not recognising Gryffindor's former Golden Boy the second she saw him. Sure he was taller but he was still skinny – Actually Potter was what muggles would call athletically slim with a swimmer's physique – and then there was his really deep green eyes… It had to be the hair, that jaw length shaggy mane meant she hadn't recognised him as easily as she should have.

"Morning." Potter said as he took a swig of something from the mug he carried. Walking to the bed he set the mug down on the bedside locker and turned to look at her, and giving her a very good look at the massive knife he carried. "Now, I'm gonna take that tape off… Scream, cry or make any kind of noise and I'll punch you again only, this time, you won't wake up afterwards… Got it?"

A nod.

"Good girl." He chuckled before ripping the tape off of her mouth. After taking a moment to take another sip from his mug Harry continued. "Now… You know who I am, right?"

Another nod.

"… You can talk when I ask a question." He stated simply. "So, you know who I am… How about returning the favour? … What's your name?"

"Y-You don't recognise me? Seriously?!" Despite everything Pansy was annoyed. She was Pansy Parkinson, The Queen of Slytherin House, and had been in his class… How could he not know her?! "Parkinson… Pansy Parkinson, we were in classes together! How do you not recognise me!?"

"Parkinson… Huh." Potter muttered before grabbing her face with his empty hand and turning her head side to side, to study her. "Nope, not ringing a bell… Now anyway, how did you find me Pansy?"

"Find you… I… I wasn't looking for you. I got drunk and YOU took me home!" Pansy accused.

"… Fair enough. So, why where you in the club anyway?" Potter asked. When she didn't reply he just sighed, reached for his mug and then waved the knife in front of her face… That got Pansy talking.

She told him everything; How the Dark Lord had returned in the Summer of '95. How he, in secret, had re-established his powerbase and expanded it with new servants. She told him how, in Jan of '97 the Ministry finally started to support and believe Dumbledore when he claimed certain actions had been carried out under You-Know-Who's orders. She told him how, with Dumbledore's health clearly fading, The Dark Lord was actively pushing forward with attacks against both muggles and muggle supporters as well as sending potential Death Eaters –here she had to stop and explain what a Death Eater was – out into the muggle world to find possible targets as well as gather information for some unknown reason.

When she was finished talking the look in Potter's eyes, detached and disinterested in her, made her worry. When he rose and turned to stare down at her she really thought 'this is it' but thankfully all he did was apply more tap over her mouth and leave.

 _ **X**_

Harry searched frantically for a minute for the phone before noticing the smashed pieces against a wall. Swearing up a storm, and really wishing he'd listened to Ben and gotten himself a mobile, Harry paced back and forth trying to think of something to do.

"Comer can clean this shit up… His damn club." Harry muttered before gathering up all the crap he'd taken from the purse and stuffing it back in, Comer bought and sold stuff in the Magical World all the time and would be able to fence it easy, Harry pocketed the purse and the witch's wand before turning to leave.

Slipping on the shoes and jacket from last night Harry opened the door to the flat and nearly walked into some weirdo in a cape, pointed hood and skull mask. Standing behind said weirdo was two more similarly dressed wack-jobs. Harry took a half-step back in surprise, they gasped in shock.

"…"

"… Ah crap."

Slamming the door Harry turned to run, only to be blown arse over head when the door exploded behind him. Getting to his feet Harry made for the coffee table, where he'd left the kitchen knife, only to take a spell square between the shoulder blades –which did nothing more but make him stagger and give him a real bad case of pins and needles where it hit. Pushing on Harry took three more spells and tumbled forward, barely avoiding cracking his head of the side off of the table.

"Damn, filthy halfblood was though." A gruff voice said.

"They say he survived the Killing Curse… Makes sense one stunner wouldn't be enough really." Another voice snorted as heavy footsteps approached Harry.

Waiting until the footsteps stopped Harry spun round, tucked his feet in and then kicked out catching the half crouched Death Eater square in the chest. A very satisfying crunch accompanied the man being knocked off his feet and back several feet.

"What the ?!" Another Death Eater cried as he fired off a Killing Curse, having decided that taking Harry alive was too dangerous. The spell struck Harry in his right eye, and felt like someone had just driven a white hot poker into the socket.

Screaming in pain and rage Harry reacted on instinct, grabbing hold of the coffee table and tossing it at the offending Death Eater. The man, shocked that Harry was still standing after taking the Killing Curse to the face, didn't have a chance to try and dodge before the table caught him just above the jaw line. It was hard to tell if the rather loud crack was from the wood or the man's neck.

Still running on pure rage, the pain in his eye fading as the pressure and pain in his chest increased tenfold, Harry scooped up the kitchen knife and rushed the final Death Eater. The Death Eater, unaccustomed to facing resistance, froze up at seeing his fellow Death Eaters downed allowing Harry to close in and attack.

Several quick and frenzied stabs later Harry was running for the door as one Death Eater slowly bled out. Stepping out through the broken door frame Harry spotted another trio of Death Eaters between him and the stairwell, each with their wands out and spells on their lips.

Diving back inside to avoid the malevolent looking purple streak that shot from one Death Eater's wand Harry cursed under his breath.

When the first Death Eater appeared at the opening that was once a door Harry stupidly tossed the knife at him… Of course kitchen knives aren't really balanced so instead of landing blade first in the dickhead's throat it hit handle forward just above one of the eye holes of the man's mask.

"That always works in the damn movies!" Harry groaned before rushing for the kitchen – its where the knives are kept.

Taking cover from the barrage of dark curses and hexes coming at him, he may survive the Killing Curse but he wasn't willing to risk one of the other ones working, Harry ripped the cutlery draw from its place and began frantically looking for something big to defend himself with.

"Th **that** at ste **stench** nch… Cam **Cambion** bion!"

Harry wasn't a hundred percent sure what it was about the speaker's voice that terrified him most. Was it the strange stereo effect, was it that words where both spoken normally an hissed like some kind of animal or was it how it knew what he was?!

"Co **Come** me o **out** ut lit **littletl** e half **halfborn** born… L **Let** et m **me** e s **see** ee y **youo** u."

"Parkinson, what the hell are you talking about?" Another Death Eater, this one thankfully sounding normal, asked as the spell casting ended.

"Ne **Never** ver mi **mind** nd Pi **Piers** ers." Parkinson, that name sounded familiar, said in his seriously messed up voice. "N **No** o, th **th** en I' **I'll** ll se **send** nd some **something** thing i **in** n…. **Zazas Nasatanada Sanguias Ravala!** "

Harry wasn't sure what the last bit was, maybe a spell or something, but whatever it was doing seemed to really freak out the other two Death Eaters. Both screamed in shock and fear.

Peeking out Harry watched as the Death Eater he'd downed with a kick to the chest convulsed and exploded in a shower of flesh, bone and cloth. What was left behind nearly made Harry shit himself.

It stood just over five feet tall, hunched, looking like someone had decided to paint a half decayed corpse red. Both its lower jaw and much of its throat seemed to have rotted away, leaving only a massive fleshy maw. Filthy rags covered its forearms and lower legs, from which emerged long flexible claws.

When it turned to face him Harry found himself staring straight into twin pools of burning yellow light.

"P-Parkinson, what the hell is that?" Piers gasped, he and the other Death Eater backing away quickly.

"O **One** ne o **of** f t **the** he Rava **Ravagers** vers, Sold **Soldiers** iers i **in** n t **the** he Mas **Master's** ter's com **coming** ing Wa **War** r." Parkinson replied before gesturing towards Harry. "Ki **Kill** ll!"

The Ravager let out a gurgled scream and rushed forward. Harry desperately going through the cutlery draw managed to pull out a chef's knife as the creature reached him. Lashing out with the knife Harry sunk the blade deep into the creature's chest, only to be backhanded across the kitchen.

Closing in before Harry could get up the creature dug its claws into his back and tossed him through the dividing wall. Skidding to a halt against the couch Harry quickly scrambled to his feet as the Ravager charged him again.

Glancing around for some form of weapon Harry grabbed a tall lamp and, after ripping off the plug, batted the creature in the side of the head. The Ravager wasn't hurt but was thankfully knocked aside as the base of the lamp shattered against its temple. Swinging again, with the top this time, Harry was rewarded when the shattering bulb caught the creature in the eye and drew a howl of pain from it.

Howling in rage the Ravager lashed out, knocking Harry across the room. Snatching up the TV, a solid mass of circuits and plastic that weighed nearly as much as Harry himself did, the young cambion smashed it down on the rushing demons head.

"Son of a bitch!" Harry roared as he began to pound away at the Ravager, punching its face and chest repeatedly. Screaming in rage Harry drove his fist into the Ravager's chest, causing it to shriek in agony and then dissolve into a puddle of blood.

"Ve **Very** ry go **good** od, no **now** w le **let** t u **us** s s **see** ee y **you** ou han **handle** dle t **two** wo." Parkinson chuckled before turning to face the other Death Eaters and incanting. " **Zazas Nasatanada Sanguiat Ravaiuls!"**

A pair of agaonised screams, followed by both Death Eaters violently spasming, heralded the arrival of two more Ravagers.

"… Oh for fuck's sake!" Harry groaned as he clutched his chest, the pain and pressure behind his ribcage almost unbearable, as he prepared to fight his way to the door and hopefully escape.

 _ **XXXXX**_

 _ **The scattered scenes relating to my Harry Potter DmC Devil May Cry crossover idea. Quick summary,**_

 _ **Harry has demonic ancestry – no 'James isn't the father' here. This demonic ancestry emerged when he nearly died.**_

 _ **Cambion, those of demonic heritage, are hated and despised by wizarding kind. Looking up the word in the Hogwarts Library Harry f**_ ** _ound passages with the words 'abomination' 'living disaster' and 'should be killed before it loses control and murders a village' which really freaked him out._**

 _ **Harry has a DT based on Dante from the Ninja Theory game, intense kinetic discharge followed up by localised temporal distortion. This DT is powered by his body absorbing external magical energy and converting it into demonic energy. Harry's erratic DT activations in the CoS was the result of his body draining the magical energies from the multiple Killing Curses, the Trace and Lily's protective blessing – his body unable to handle the sudden rush of demonic energy caused it to repeatedly purge the energy via DT to protect itself. The 'explosion' at the Dursley house was Harry's body reacting to, and absorbing, the Blood Wards (the resulting DT induced destruction caused Harry to panic, Dobby's magic got him in trouble and he figured this'd get him executed so he ran).**_

 _ **The squib Armand 'Old Mal' Comer [born Armand Malfoy] is an OC I came up with ages ago for a completely different, and now mostly forgotten, idea that went nowhere… I liked what I'd come up with for him – was a powerful figure in the London Underworld who employed a bunch of Muggleborn witches/wizards, people who'd fled the wizarding world when Voldemort was at his height to hide but had no skills suited to working as muggles – was too good to just waste. So here he's a 'retired' mobster.**_

 _ **Voldemort's return to physical form was the result of him striking a bargain with a powerful Devil called The Herald. Voldemort would be shown how to summon lesser demons into his Death Eaters, who would then subdue and gain the power of said demons, so that he could assist in the Devils' planned conquest of Earth (Voldemort would be made the immortal ruler in their stead). He agreed, planning to screw over The Herald unaware that the lesser demons are in fact powerful Devils who are controlling his high ranking Death Eaters.**_

 _ **Demons and Devils are mostly OC – certain names from the DMC lore will pop up, but with completely reworked and redesigned characterisation [as a possible example;**_ _ **Argosax could be the current Demon King, Echidna could be the name of Argosax's chief General while Mundus and Sparda could be little more than simple 'Boss' characters].**_

 ** _I'm dyslexic, so please point out any mistakes in spelling or grammar [I spell things the way they do in England and Ireland, so some things may look off to Americans]. Please leave your opinion via review or send them via PM, I'd like to know what you think. Well, I think that's everything I've gotta say so, hope you enjoyed the chapter._**

 ** _This is Highvalour saying bye and thanks for reading._**


	3. Random 1

_**BOTH OF THE NON-DmC SCENES FROM MY RANDOMS… Honestly thought there were more.**_

 _ **Like always, I really need feedback on these so I can find out what people like/dislike and so I can work out what areas I need to improve on. So please, review. Another chapter, another attempt to entertain you all. I honestly do not have anything else to add, so on with the show!**_

 _ **Each Intellectual Property Belongs To Its Respective Owner.**_

 _ **XXXXX**_

XX Falkreath Hold, South Of The Guardian Stones - 17th of Last Seed, 4E 201 XX

Just off the paved road linking Helgen and Falkreath itself, nestled in the trees and the bushes, was a small camp. Three crude tents, a fire-pit and a rack for tanning leather comprised the sum total of this pitiful little hide-away. Its makers and inhabitants, a trio of lowly bandits, seemed to be going about their normal business.

One sat by the fire, slowly stirring the contents of the bubbling pot that contained the meagre stew their food could make while the others sorted through their possessions. To the casual observer one would think the trio planned to enjoy a hot meal before breaking camp, but to those who paid attention something would have seemed off.

The movements of the pair sorting the possessions were jerky and unnatural, implying unease with their actions. Soft groans and whimpers of pain from the trio hinted at hidden pain or fear and the burn marks told of their recent, not to mention magic induced, deaths. Although the faint glow emanating from beneath their skin along with the occasional cloud of magicka forming around them would alert any with even a basic knowledge of Conjuration that these three where in fact thralls, raised by a necromancer of some power.

Said necromancer sat beneath the shade of a tree behind the camp eating an apple and sipping tea from a crude pewter cup. He was garbed in the dark brown and deep blue robes worn by Expert practitioners trained up in Winterhold and wore an equally dark brown hood to match the robes… Although, of course, if one was to speak with the mage in question he'd claim that a Master's robe would suit better but he sadly had to leave before he could be fitted for one but a quick getaway is required when one assaults a member of the Thalmor.

"Damn knife-eared bastard, had to go and stick his nose into other people's business." The mage muttered as he tossed the remains of his apple away and reached up to stroke the scars that marred his forehead over his right eye, the results of a relaxing stroll and an unfortunate encounter with a Wisp Mother. It was funny, he liked these scars. Sure they marked him, but it was for something he remembered and when he shared the story in the taverns people would look, comment on how lucky he'd been and let it drop… Not like people had done with the mark the scars now hid.

As the mage refilled his cup from a crude tea pot he'd fashion and added the last few drops of his milk a roar like distant thunder rang out. The roar came from up north, near Helgen from the sounds of it and didn't match up with anything the twenty-something year old mage knew of.

"Oh! It's starting is it? Marvellous!" A voice the mage recognised, and had been dreading laughed from behind him. It was a strange one, either an Irishman failing to pass as a Scot or a Scotsman messing up an Irish accent. Turning slowly to face his, for a lack of a better word, 'patron' the mage tried to force a smile and some warmth into his voice.

"My Lord Sheogorath, to what do I owe this most gracious visit?" The mage asked, hoping with every fibre the Daedric Prince of Madness would actually forget why he'd come. "We have not spoken in almost a-"

"A decade laddie." Sheogorath finished with that strange smile that could either mean 'joy' or 'I will kill you' that only the Prince of Madness could wear naturally. "You've done will for yourself, made a wee bit of a name… What was it again?"

"'Haraldur The Limitless', _milord_." The mage, 'Haraldur', admitted once it dawned that Sheogorath wasn't being rhetorical. As the pair spoke another roar, closer and menacing, echoed through the valley. Ignoring whatever it was for now, Haraldur stared at the being who'd taken him to Nirn and freed him from the life he'd endured before. The man who'd took him from his friends but also freed him from the looks and the whispers, liberated him from the bipolar society who had turned on him over a simple misunderstanding. "P-Please… Please Lord, d-don't send me back. I'm happy here. I'm free from those brutes I'd been forced on an-and I don't have to deal with the bullshit and bickering from the school. I love Nirn… S-Sure there are more thinks that can kill me, but not as many have tried. I-I'm happy here and… And… and I don't want to go back, back to being that scared and pitiful little boy anymore."

"I feel for ya, laddie, I do. But I'm a man of my word, except when I ain't, and we had a deal." The Daedric Prince said as sympathetically as he could while handing the sobbing man a silk handkerchief. "Now we had a deal; I'd give you ten years of freedom. Ten years to be all you could be, or to waste and do what ya want I didn't care about that part… But in return you owe me. You owe me some excitement, some amusement and some fun. And guess what, I found it. Back in your world they got a big game coming up, a competition to find the best magic user of The Age… or of a certain age, wasn't to clear when I was looking through Oblivion."

"And you want me to take part." 'Haraldur' sighed, it wasn't a question but a simple statement. "Can we at least wait until the Thralls finish? I've got them sorting me stuff and their crap into what I can use or sell back there."

"Oh, so you been expecting me to show up then? That's good, but that you're accepting this but not good that I am being predictable." Sheogorath growled as he took back his hankie and ate it. "And I ain't gonna make you that wee little wizard boy you was when I found you… You living in that, in that Jyggalagtic plane of dullness with your little tiny house all the same and your gardens the same and I swear to ME I'D HAVE GONE STARK DARN CRAZY IF I'D BEEN STUCK THERE! But I guess you took my deal, so ya might have been a wee bit bonkers already."

Resigned to his fate, 'Haraldur' settled down to his last meal a free man. He knew that Sheogorath would let him have it, there was lettuce in it, and waited until the Thralls had his pack ready for him. When they'd finished, and he'd released them with a wave of his hand, 'Haraldur' hefted the pack onto his back and collected his staff.

"See you got rid of that old toothpick." Sheogorath noted as he finished off his own stew, having only complained once about its lack of brains, and readied the magic to send his little investment back. "Good to see, the locals must have laughed at it."

"It's still here, hidden in the wood." 'Haraldur' said softly as he patted the ornate dragon carved into the pit of his staff. Pointing the staff at Sheogorath and giving it a little wave he cast one of the few spells he'd mastered from home. "See."

Glancing down at his feet, Sheogorath found his legs doing a hearty little gig of their own accord. Laughing with amusement the Daedric Prince clapped his hands and the trees closest to them began to twist and warp, forming an arch. 'Haraldur' knew the shape they'd taken, he'd seen one before and depictions a hundred times in books. An Oblivion Gate had formed. 'Haraldur' suspected that it was because the Gate linked not to Oblivion but through it to another plane that it could form at all.

"Goodbye, Milord." 'Haraldur' said sadly as he racked at his raven dark hair in an effort to cover his scars and fiddled with the hood so that it shadowed his face, leaving only the deep green eyes to stand out. Once he was ready, or as ready as he could be, 'Haraldur' stepped through the Gate and was transported back to the realm of his birth, a realm he hadn't missed in ten long years.

"Goodbye laddie." Sheogorath laughed as his legs continued to dance the river dance. "Put on a good show and I might take ya back when all this prophecy malarkey is over with."

 _ **XXXXX**_

XX Privet Drive; Surrey, United Kingdom - 1 November, 1981 XX

As Minerva McGonagall, Transfiguration professor and deputy headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, tried to convince her long-time friend and superior Albus Dumbledore not to leave Young Harry with the Dursleys of no.4 Privet Drive Hagrid looked on. It wasn't his place to question Mr. Dumbledore and Hagrid trusted that Dumbledore knew what he was doing.

"- The only family he has." Albus Dumbledore said, cutting of McGonagall's argument against letting Petunia watch over her nephew.

"This boy will be famous." McGonagall sighed, deeply saddened that young Harry's fame came with such a cost. "… There won't be a child in our world who doesn't know his name."

"Exactly." Dumbledore agreed. "He's far better growing up away from all of that… Until he is ready."

After gently setting the bundle of cloth which held the saviour of Magical Britain down, and wordlessly enchanting the blankets to keep the boy warm and comfortable, Dumbledore turned to comfort the teary eyed Hagrid. As they turned to leave Dumbledore set a sealed envelope, addressed to Petunia Dursley, atop of Harry.

"Good luck, Harry Potter." Dumbledore said softly before the denizens of the magical world departed, none having noticed the curtains of no.5 Privet Drive twitch.

 _ **X**_

Slade Joseph Wilson, former Lieutenant Colonel in the United States Army and currently one of the most feared assassins in the world, wait a minute after the weirdoes in costume had departed before stepping out through the back door and looping around. Normally Wilson wouldn't be caught dead in an area as dull and politically stable as Surrey but after losing an eye he'd decided to take an easy job, tracking down and killing a group of IRA men who'd killed the cousin of someone able to afford his fee… Mostly to keep his close friend William Wintergreen from worrying himself to death.

Silently creeping up the side of the house, M1911 and combat knife at the ready, Wilson scanned the street with his one good eye. Sure he was being paranoid, but the incident with The Jackal was still fresh in his mind, and the group could easily have used leaving that bundle as a cover to scope out his current hiding place… Or to plant a bomb. Crouching low he used the edge of his knife to pull back the edge of the blanket enough to get a good look inside.

"A kid?" He muttered in surprise before scanning the street again, his head swivelling from side to side to account for his recently reduced field of vision.

Setting the knife aside, but keeping the M1911 ready, Wilson picked up the envelope and read the address scrawled in green ink before flipping the envelope over and taking note of the seal; A lion, a snake, a badger and a bird all centred around a stylised 'H'. Breaking the seal with his thumb Wilson read the contents and found he understood very little of it. Names, places and events he had no knowledge of where mentioned casually alongside the news that the boy before him was now an orphan and that powerful magic would protect these 'Dursleys' if they took him in.

"Magic?" Wilson snorted dismissively. He'd had run-ins with magic users, mostly as targets he'd been hired to kill. Some were powerful, some were weak and some just plain crazies who'd read a little too much Alastor Crawley while tripping on LSD. But since he'd seen a flying motorcycle and two teleporting senior citizens Wilson was gonna say this fell somewhere between he first two. Turning to look at the kid again Wilson took in the boy's features, his messy black hair and the rather stylised cut on his forehead. "Huh… Apart from the scratch, you look a lot like Wade did as a kid."

Normally Wilson would have called the cops to report the kid and been long gone but seeing the little orphaned boy but, so soon after Adeline had left him with their children, something stopped him. Wintergreen had been saying how the kids had been a stabilising influence and he wanted someone to follow in his footsteps, something neither Grant nor Joseph where likely to do if Adeline had anything to say about it.

Deciding to get the kid in off the cold wet street, at least for the night, Wilson scooped up the bundle of blankets and retreated back into the house he'd 'commandeered' for use while he'd been tracking those IRA men. He, or more accurately Wintergreen, still had a few friends in British Intelligence who could hopefully provide some Intel on what was going on.

 _ **XXXXX**_

 _ **An idea that had been bumping around in my head for a while. I tried to work out and develop the basics over on The Infamous Man's forum but couldn't get too far and it wasn't until I read the Dungeons 'n Drow chapter of Odd Ideas but the legendary Rorschach's Blot that it just clicked. Rorschach's Blot did Harry disappearing as a baby and then coming back for first year [being de-aged in the process] so I decided to take a Harry who'd willingly leave the Wizarding World if offered the chance, like a Harry who'd just gone through Second Year with the School turning on him, his friend being petrified and nearly dying against the basilisk only to be rewarded for saving the Muggleborns, and the world, from 'Minimort' with the fucking Dursleys. Add in Sheogorath [a god send for anyone who wants a crossover with TES] and here you go, the beginnings of a SuperHarry fic that's equal parts crack, parody, culture shock and not giving a shit.**_

 _ **All I can say is "Nihil novi sub sole**_ _ **" ("there is nothing new under the sun"). Gonna be honest, this is the same premise as Harry Potter and the Invincible Technomage [with hopefully less bashing] and Thinking In Little Green Boxes [just a little less crackish] only with DC characters. Harry Potter taken in by Slade Wilson, everyone's favourite one-eyed supersoldier turned mercenary. As a bit of world blending the Wizards/Witches of HP-verse are extreme isolationist groups of DC's Homo Magi [I shit you not, that's a term DC uses]. Also, seems the Fourth person to use the codename Ravager was Slade's younger half-brother, whose name was Wade… That had to be a take that at Marvel.**_

 _ **I'm dyslexic, so please point out any mistakes in spelling or grammar [I spell things the way they do in England and Ireland, so some things may look off to Americans]. Please leave your opinion via review or send them via PM, I'd like to know what you think. Well, I think that's everything I've gotta say so, hope you enjoyed the chapter.**_

 _ **This is Highvalour saying bye and thanks for reading.**_


	4. Loki's Child

_**Last of my old HP stuff outta Chaos In the Cosmos, both parts of "Loki's Child" lumped together. Basic backstory is that Loki escaped from his prison about a century ago but, rather than start Ragnarok is the Norn said he would, he then got distracted… Spent about decades wandering the earth in different forms until he learns about and decides to enter the Wizarding World. Little bit of trickery and poof, Lily Evans.**_

 _ **Harry Potter belongs to J K Rowling.**_

 _ **The Norse Gods belong to, em the Norse?**_

 _ **XXXXX**_

XX Godric's hollow; Somerset, England (31st Oct 1991) XX

Tom Marvolo Riddle, the self-titled Dark Lord Voldemort, rolled his eyes as the mudblood begged for mercy. Not for herself, as most of his victims did, but for the toddler watching them from a small playpen across the room. Normally he'd have killed her the second he'd entered the boy's room, mudbloods deserved little attention, but he'd promised Severus Snape her life as a reward for bringing him the information about the prophecy.

Ordering her out of his way again, and having her ignore his most generous offer to survive, Riddle lost his patience and struck her down with the Killing Curse. As her limp form hit the ground Riddle stepped over her and advanced on the boy. Such curious eyes, green like his mudblood mother but they seemed to shimmer. One did not steep oneself so deep in magic as Tom Riddle and not develop a finely tuned sense for the flow and ebb of power. He'd felt it the second he'd entered the house, nearly been overwhelmed when he'd stepped foot into the room and now it was only his own considerable magical prowess that prevented him falling to his knees.

"I see what that seer meant, if I let you grow you might have been able to match me." He told the child, who hadn't reacted when the mudblood had died. Strange, normally children cried when he did that. "But now, with you dead, I have nothing to fear at all."

The boy looked at Riddle while he'd been speaking, more attracted by the sounds than paying attention, and then moved to look past him. Stupid child couldn't even recognise the danger, Riddle considered using this as an example of why mixing fine pure blood with muggles and mudbloods was a bad idea as he cast a second Killing Curse. A flash of green light, a sound like a stone bouncing off glass and then an explosion where what followed.

 _ **X**_

Sirius let out a wail of almost physical agony when he entered the small house his best friend had hidden himself and his family away. There, lying not three feet from the door, was James' body. Dropping to his knees by the body Sirius wept, he'd killed. It was his fault James was dead.

"L-Lilly?! Lilly are you there?" Sirius screamed and a sound came from upstairs, it sounded like the thump-thump of heavy feet. Drawing his wand Sirius rushed up and to where he'd thought he'd heard the sound, Harry's room. In his haste Sirius failed to spot Lily's body and nearly tripped head over heels when he hit it. "No… No, no, no, no."

"Gurrh." The groan came from Lily's body, but it wasn't Lily's voice. It was deep, almost male, and very harsh. Then, before Sirius' very eyes, Lily's body began to convulse and twist. Bones began to reposition themselves beneath skin, skin stretched and hardened as Lily's soft face seemed to become weather worn. Her long, sleek red hair darkened and grew out. Limbs elongated and swelled as muscle and fat formed from nothing. The transformation wasn't the smooth and fluid change of a Metamorphmagus or the bubbling change of a polyjuice potion, this looked more like some invisible force had simply grabbed Lily and began to twist and stretch her body.

"What in the name of god…?" Sirius gasped as the man whose body was once Lily groaned again and pushed himself up to his knees, paused a moment to spit out what Sirius took a second to recognise as human teeth, and rose up to full height. The now ragged robes Lily had been wearing barely covered he man, who was a good foot taller than Sirius and easily outweighed the first son of Orion and Walburga Black by a good forty pounds.

Urg… Sirius?" The man grumbled in a deep, slightly foreign voice as he turned. Once he did Sirius got a good look at the face and two things caught his attention. First was the pair of horrific scars that ran from the edges of the man's lips out across his checks to just beneath his earlobes. The second, and strangely more striking, was his eyes. The same deep green, the same intelligence and the same 'I know what you did' look as Lily's eyes. The man seemed to notice he was taller than Sirius, looked down to see his appearance and cursed in some harsh language. "… This'll take some explaining."

"W-Who the hell are you!" Sirius screamed as he raised his wand and moved himself in between Harry and the stranger. "You some servant of You-Know-Who? He leave you here to finish Harry off?!"

"Sirius, shut up or I'll hex you." The stranger said. The voice was wrong, the accent was way off but the words and the tone was just like Lily. What the hell was going on?!

"I said who are you? Answer me dammit!" Sirius snapped as be prepared to cast a spell, only to be thrown backwards and pinned to the wall by some unseen force. The stranger walked forward and picked up the half-asleep Harry. "Get away from him you bastard or I swear I'll fucking kill you!"

"Use words like that again in front of young Harry here and I'll stick your tongue to the roof of your mouth!" The stranger growled as he rocked Harry gently back and forth. Again the voice and accent were wrong but still screamed Lily.

"Who are you?" Sirius asked again. There was something gnawing at the back of his mind, an answer to the question but he refused to even consider it. It was impossible.

"I have many names… Hvedrungr, Lopt, Lokke, Loki…" The man said absentmindedly as Harry drifted off to sleep in his arms. "You know me as Lily… I'm guessing James didn't survive then?"

"L-Lily? Wha…? How?" Sirius asked. He didn't understand. It was impossible. He knew the names, they all belonged to an old god his uncle Albert had told him about once… But those old stories where just that, stories!

"Tell Dumbledore I'll stop bye… Probably next week… To take Harry's name off the register." The so-called 'Loki' said sadly as he adjusted his grip on Harry, so he could pick up a travel bag. "I'll explain then."

Before Sirius could comment, the man was gone. And harry gone with him.

 _ **X**_

XX Odin's Hall, Asgard XX

Odin did his best not to sigh as Thor, god of thunder and strength, threatened to bash Tyr's, god of law and personal glory, skull in with his hammer. This was why Odin liked having Loki around, if his blood-brother was still about than all he'd have to do is ask Loki to placate Thor with either the truth or a skilfully worded lie. Instead he was about to see his most favoured son, Baldur had been Frigg's favourite, have be beaten brutally by his predecessor as king… Maybe he was a bit too hasty when he'd ordered Loki chained by his son's entrails and left forgotten in that cave. Sighing to himself he rose and prepared to order Thor to stand down when there was a crack like bone breaking and there, between arguing gods, stood Loki.

"Oh… Hello everyone." The Trickster said happily while his presence caused chaos, with cries of 'Ragnarok' and 'the end times' ringing out. These voices became silent when Loki let out a roar and then, rather hypocritically, spoke "Quiet, he's sleeping."

It was this comment that drew Odin's attention to the small human child held in Loki's arms. Had Loki fathered another child, or did he simply want to keep his lunch easy to transport? It was hard to tell with the shapeshifting Jotun. Rising from his throne and taking three measured steps forward, Odin decided to ask the question on every Aesir's mind.

"How long have you been free?" Odin's voice was calm, level. It wouldn't do to shout or scream at the moment.

"Eh… Going by Midgard's seasons… I'd say a century, maybe more." Loki laughed before gesturing widely with his free arm at the hall and everyone in it. "And look, your precious Asgard still stands. Shall miracles never cease, ah brother?"

"Indeed…" Odin agreed as he stepped closer. "… But the question must be, brother, why? What have you done with this century of freedom?"

"Well I had planned to rally Hel's forces, call upon my kin in Jotunheim and even call in favours from Muspelheim but… well I got hungry." Loki admitted in the airs of one who'd just admitted to having a light snack before mealtime. "Then I got tired, then hungry again, then I was horny… Was horny for a long time actually and then I was a little girl. Had a bit of fun, went to school and got married. Had little harry here and then I died."

"I'm sorry, you what?" Odin asked slowly. He was almost positive something in that story was wrong.

"Well I didn't die, so much as I took a spell that would have killed a human and accidently retook my true form." Loki explained. "Anyway I decided I wanted little Harry here to see his family, well his real family the mortals I lived with for a time weren't really that great and most are dead now so… yeah."

 _ **X**_

XX The Hall Of Loki, Asgard (Two Days later) XX

Sigyn bounced the toddler on her knee, electing giggles and happy laughs from the boy who looked nothing like his f-mother as the case was. As she kept the little boy amused and distracted while Loki was off speaking with Odin, Sigyn wondered how she should feel…

One the one had her husband had returned, and their hall sounded with the laughs of a child again, but on the other he had been free, and whoring about, for more than a century while she had kept his escape secret. In hindsight, not alerting the rest of Asgard that the man destined to cause the destruction all of creation had escaped was a stupid thing to do but they had killed her children… Thankfully her spiteful concealment of his escape wouldn't mean everyone's deaths on her hands, despite occasional dark thoughts Sigyn did not actually want Asgard gone, and it seemed Loki had spent most of his time on Midgard in female forms which meant every child he had without her equalled a very painful childbirth. Those thoughts and the memories of the strapping young warriors who'd kept her company on the long, cold nights meant she wouldn't be too harsh on Loki.

Speaking of Loki, the Trickster had been gone some time attempting to convince Odin that young Harry here should stay. Apparently her husband had been stupid enough, although he claimed it was merely 'keeping in character', to let someone dedicate the child to the Christian God. Sure they could just raise the boy in his ancestor's ways but that sand dwelling isolationist tended to throw hissy fits whenever It felt someone was taking It's followers away. Then there was the fact that Loki didn't seem able to have a child that the Norn hadn't predestined to have something to do with Ragnarok which meant Odin had to send off to hear from them and find out… Could Loki actually go a millennium without causing trouble?

"Sigyn? Harry?" Loki's voice came from the far side of the hall.

"Here." Sigyn called out as she rose, Harry held loosely in her arms. Loki's form rippled and shifted as he came up to them so that it was the face of Lily Potter nee Evans that took young Harry from her.

"Hello Harry, were you a good boy for Sigyn?" Loki cooed as she tossed Harry up and caught him again, Harry's squeals of delight reminded Sigyn of when Nari was young and Loki would do the same. As he turned to face her Loki shifted back to what most of Asgard thought of as his 'true form', seemed he wanted Harry to become accustomed to that form at an early age. "Was he any bother?"

"Loki Laufeyson, I raised two Aesir children and have cared for many others! Do you really think a mortal would be difficult?" Sigyn snapped, offended at the accusation.

"Apologies my love, it's just that not even James could watch over him for long without my little boy causing some kind of mischief." Loki chuckled in Lily's voice. "James was so proud… Thought Harry was taking after him even though he's just a little Mamma's boy, aren't you Harry?"

"Tell me of about your mortal, you normally don't stay with them long enough for marriage." Sigyn said as she took Harry from Loki and made her way to their dining table, where several plates with cuts of meat and sugared fruits sat prepared.

"Harry favours him almost perfectly… So much so that after seeing James' baby photos Sirius asked if Harry was really our son or a homunculus we made one day while bored." Loki laughed in his own voice, although it came from Lily's lips. "Although his eyes where brown, very much like your own… Huh, maybe that was why I liked him so much."

"There are several parts of my body you adore, Loki, but my eyes are not one of them." Sigyn said pointedly as she tore up a slice of beef into small strips for Harry. "Why did you stay with him for so long?"

"I don't know… He was everything I 'hated'." Loki sighed as he shifted back to normal. "He was cocky, arrogant, petty, mean, a prankster without care for what befell others… Had no intention of following any rules if he didn't want to and wasted so much talent just messing about."

"Are we talking about this 'James' mortal or you?" Sigyn joked. Loki's mock reaction of hurt feelings brought a bout of giggles from Harry, who hadn't spoken a word since Voldemort had attacked them and that worried Loki. The boy had been so gabby the last few weeks.

"James." Loki told her as he reached out and gently touched the dressing Sigyn had applied to the wound atop Harry's head. "If I wanted someone like myself I'd have returned Sirius' longing looks in Fourth Year… When you cleaned his wound did it seem off to you?"

"No, why?" Sigyn answered as she watched Harry reach up and try to grab at Loki's finger.

"Just… It's just that something isn't right." Loki murmured as he shifted back into Lily's form and picked Harry up. "The warding I had around him, and the spell he was hit by… There shouldn't be a mark on him, I think I should take him to see Eir when she returns from wherever she's disappeared off too."

XX Godric's Hollow Graveyard; Somerset, England (One Week Later) XX

The funeral was a very private affair, Dumbledore had seen to that. Powerful wards and muggle repelling charms meant no one, magical or otherwise, could enter the graveyard where the ancient wizard stood with a handful of others and listened as the minister finished the service over the graves of James and Lily Potter… Well James at the very least. A lack of any body for Lily, coupled with both a Veritaserum and Legilimency interrogations on young Sirius Black had forced Dumbledore to transfigure some rubble into a passable copy of the young witch.

To his left stood Sirius, solemn faced and reeking slightly of alcohol. Seems the poor boy wasn't taking the revelation that there really are Higher Powers, or that he once tried and failed to flirt with one, well. Passed Sirius stood Remus Lupin, another man who looked the worse for wear. He'd been drinking in mourning for the deaths of both Potters, Sirius was under oath not to share anything that had happened after he'd arrived in the cottage with anyone. To their right stood a few others, mostly staff from Hogwarts and Order members. Petunia had refused to come to the funeral, and James' parents had lived long enough to see young Harry born, so there weren't many who knew the Potter's to mourn.

Oh there were mourners, thousands upon thousands, but many cried crocodile tears and had only come to catch a glimpse of young Harry or to strengthen the claims that they were not in fact on Tom's side.

"Has he… She…? Have you been contacted?" Sirius whispered while Remus stepped forward and paid his final respects.

"Not yet, unfortunately." Dumbledore sighed. "And a pity too as I had so hoped to meet another pagan god… Oh well, I'm sure Loki will get in touch."

"Get in… A pity? I…" Sirius spluttered incoherently as he shook with rage. Controlling himself as Remus returned Sirius bit back his comments until the service was done and he'd promised Remus he'd catch up in a few minutes. Once he was sure no one was watching, or would notice and stop him, he snatched a grip of Dumbledore's robes and punched the old man in the face. "Some thing shows up claiming to be a creature from the primordial, possesses and mutates poor Lily's corpse into some freakish form and takes my godson and all you can say is pity?! What, the hell, is wrong with you?"  
"Maybe he just has faith?" A soft voice said from behind, causing Sirius to jump and half turn in mid-air. There, leaning against one of the other gravestones, stood Lily Potter in a pair of muggle jeans and a light summery blouse. "Need a hand up, Albus?"

"No, no I'm fine." The aged wizard said in that grandfatherly tone of his even as he tapped his broken noise to stem the bleeding and undo most of the damage. "But thank you all the same Ms. Evan- Oh, hum… If what Sirius has told me is true, Mr. Laufeyson would be a more appropriate term would it not?"

"I have no titles so Loki is fine… Unless you feel more comfortable keeping Lily?" The thing Sirius refused to believe had been his best friend's wife, and source of his first crush, said as it leaned to look around them. ".. Eh, who exactly did you bury in my stead?"

"I transfigured some rubble into your likeness, wouldn't want to cause a panic would we?" Dumbledore joked in a way Sirius was definitely not happy about. The thing across from them had stolen Lily's body and her child but Dumbledore seemed perfectly willing to accept what it said at face value. "Now, as I'm sure Sirius is desperate to know, how is Harry?"

"Fine, thankfully. I was very worried there, he didn't speak for nearly a week. And that cut, I may not have bothered to study magic in Asgard but I'd picked up enough to ensure those wards should not have buckled under such a basic spell. And it still had power after it broke through the charms and wards and protections, still had power after breaking through MY spellwork, to hurt him." Lily/Loki began and for a moment, just an instant, Sirius could almost believe it really was Lily. The same gabby explanations when worked up, the same pacing on the spot and wild hand motions. Everything the same. "A neat little cut, like a childish drawing of a lightning bolt, over his eye. Thor is laughing his ass off at that, says the boy should be dedicated to him, and it took me five days to find Eir! That little Vanir had run off somewhere to collect flowers to make salves and balm with, while my son needed looking at! I could have rung her neck for making me worry-"

"Calm down Ms. Evans, calm down." Dumbledore said gently, slipping into old headmastering habits. "I trust that Eir, whom I believe is the goddess of healing correct?, was able to ensure young Harry was well?"

"Yes, fine… Well mostly fine." Loki/Lily went on after taking several breaths. "There's something stuck in the cut, hints of dark magic. Eir, Odin and even Freyja all promised me it isn't causing any harm… said it's just like grit left in a bad scratch. Although I said to leave it there when trying to remove it made Harry cry, I can't stand to see my children cry."

"No good parent can." Dumbledore added sagely, of course he wasn't speaking from personal experience but has basing this on observation and interaction of friends throughout the years. "And I'm sure if this 'grit' does cause trouble you will remove it immediately?"

"Of course, every year Harry is going to have a full check-up from Eir. He's only mortal, and your kind are so fragile it's scary." Lil-Lok-? The god told them. "And before I forget Albus, I need you to take Harry's name off the list. He won't be going to Hogwarts."

"WHAT?!" Sirius' roar would have attracted the police through the wards had Dumbledore not thought to throw up a few privacy charms while he was repairing his noise. "What do you mean, won't be going to Hogwarts?"

"Well, it's very far away and Harry is my baby… I don't want him to be that distant." Loki/Lily admitted. "I had planned to teach him so things myself, maybe ask Odin to supply a few lessons and everything would be great… Then I find out about the obligation."

"And what obligation would that be, may I ask?" Dumbledore inquired politely, he'd met a god before and knew that politeness was always the best policy if one wanted to avoid 'unfortunate accidents' at some point in the future.

"Well it seems Odin promised the last truly devoted worshipper of ours, way back in the twelfth century, that any and all mortals born of Asgard would attend the school he was building… A thank you, if you will, for his decades of undemanded worship." Lily/Loki told them in a tone that said that Odin was an idiot for doing so. "And since Harry is the first mortal born to anyone linked with Asgard since Asgard signed that treaty with Yahweh, or whatever it calls itself nowadays, I kinda have to send him to Durmstrang. Big brothers, always making your life a pain!"

"DURMSTRANG! LISTEN HERE YOU… YOU CREATURE YOU! I WILL NOT SEE MY GODSON SENT OFF TO THAT VILE SCHOOL IN THE ARSE-HOLE OF NOWHERE TO BE TAUGHT THE DARKEST OF MAGI-!" Sirius screamed before a ten and a quarter inch Willow hand appeared in the hand of the focus of his screaming and a spell to stick his tongue to the roof of his mouth was put on him.

"Dare speak to me like that again and I'll rip out your lungs through your back Black! Am I clear?" Loki growled in a tone that would have left Dementors shaking in terror. Once he had calmed down, and started using Lily's voice again, they got reassured Harry would face no threats. "I know how you feel Sirius, but Odin's credit rating is bad enough as it is and if I don't agree to help him fulfil this promise then Asgard will lose any trustworthiness it has with the rest of creation. In fact, if it makes you feel better, then you can come with me when I go to enrol him. You can be there when I threaten to kill everyone within a hundred mile radius if anyone so much as thinks of hurting my little boy while he attends the school some asshole built over my old prison."

 _ **XXXXX**_

 _ **Someone over on the HP wikia tried to work out where Durmstrang is, using the info Krum gave in the books plus the fact that Rowling confirmed it to be up in Scandinavia, and one of the best locations is some mountain in some mountain in Norway called**_ _ **Galdhøpiggen [it meets the majority of the requirements, but isn't far enough north to get little sunlight like Krum said]. Now the thing I love about using Galdhøpiggen, and sending Harry to Durmstrang, for this fic is that Galdhøpiggen is located in [and I shit you not] a mountainous area called "Jotunheimen"… For a fic featuring Loki, that is fucking amazing placement.**_

 _ **I'm dyslexic, so please point out any mistakes in the spelling or grammar [I use the Irish/English spelling structure, so some may look off to Americans]. Please leave opinions and comments via review or PM, I can't improve without feedback. Well, that's everything I've got to say…**_

 _ **This is Highvalour saying thanks for reading.**_


	5. The Watcher (HP-B:TVS)

_**Good while ago I read through a collection of shelved Buffy: TVS ideas by a fic writer named Diresquirrel. I really liked his ideas and, after rereading a few of them, I came up with the basics for my own version of Diresquirrel's little crossover idea of Harry Potter grows up to become Rupert Giles.**_

 _ **Few little things to sort out before going any further;**_

 _ **I'm changing the date of Harry's birth from 31 July 1980 to 31 July 1954. As a side effect the events of the books move from 1991-1998 to 1965-1972 (I'll leave the rest of the date adjustments to anyone who wants to work it out themselves).**_

 _ **This story runs as close to canon as the date changes allows [ie certain references or terms of phrase would have changed] up to and including the death of Voldemort at Hogwarts but diverts away from canon after the wizard's fall but well before the Epilogue. What changes will be covered in the first half of the chapter.**_

 _ **In relation to magic, particularly the differences between HP magic [henceforth referred to as 'human magic'] and Buffyverse magic [to be called 'demon magic'], human magic is completely safe and has no addictive or mind altering effects on the castor {even the real dark stuff like what Riddle tossed around doesn't eat away at sanity unless that is a side-effect of a ritual performed in exchange for something} while demon magic can be addictive and result in self-destructive actions {tolerance to and side-effects of addictions vary from person to person like with actual drugs}… This serves to explain Harry/Giles' actions during his 'Ripper' phase as well as why Willow could more or less go all the way through seasons 3,4 and 5 before the 'magic as drugs' effects kicked in.**_

 _ **Read, Review, let me know what works and what works not.**_

 _ **Harry Potter Belongs To J.K. Rowling**_

 _ **Buffy:TVS Belongs To Mutant Enemy Productions**_

Special Thanks To Diresquirrel for Okaying me to taking and butchering his idea.

 _ **XXXXX**_

Highgate Cemetery; London, United Kingdom (1972)

Eighteen year old Harry Potter, the vanquisher of Voldemort and currently Auror-In-Training, Apparated to the cemetery entrance alongside Auror Williamson. The pair had been dispatched to investigate rumours of vampire attacks. In the past vampires had been protected by paragraph twelve of Guidelines for the Treatment of Non-Wizard Part-Humans, a document that had been written when vampire attacks on muggles wasn't even worth considering. That loophole had allowed the hedonistic, conscienceless minor demons to pray on the muggles with impunity for decades. A state of affairs that would have continued had acting Minister of Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt not used the, mostly false, sense of outrage and shame over the Ministry's treatment of muggles and muggleborns during Voldemort's control to enact nearly sixty Bills reforming or adjusting laws in relation to those not gifted with magic.

That was why Harry and Williamson were there. Evidence of vampire attacks on late night mourners that the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had discovered through their links with muggle police provided sufficient evidence to warrant investigation. Both wore muggle clothing, although Harry blended in better, and set off into the cemetery. Harry took the northern side of the cemetery, Williamson the south, and they slowly strolled about. Harry found them first; four school kids, around his age if not a little bit younger, armed with wooden stakes and crucifixes . Seems some muggles had read one to many serials and decided to investigate the rumours themselves.

The vampire, whose back was to Harry, had already killed three and was advancing on the final girl with clear intentions. Cursing as he drew his wand, Harry launched a tracer into the air to attract Williamson and rushed forward. It took three direct hits from his stunners on the vampire for Harry to realise something was very wrong. Vampires had some level of magical resistance but three powerful stunners should have downed it and this thing didn't even seem to notice the spells.

"Get away from her!" Harry bellowed as he tried a different spell and got some reaction this time. The Banishing Spell knocked the target forward into a large tombstone and away from the terrified girl. Looking to the girl Harry began shouting for her to run.

"B…But it… It was meant to be a vampire…" The girl just whimpered softly as she looked from one dead school mate to another. As her eyes fell on her last friend's corpse the whimpers turned to screams. "IT WAS ONLY MEANT TO BE A VAMPIRE!"

"Meant to be…?" Harry asked before the thing righted itself and turned, revealing it couldn't have passed for a vampire if it tried. Vampires when not disguised as normal humans tended to had distorted faces baring pronounced brow ridges and more fang-like teeth. They also had yellowish, animal like eyes.

This thing had none of them. Dull grey skin covered a nightmarish insectoid head, a long proboscis instead of a nose and mouth. It raised its hands, each finger tipped with massive needle-like claws and let out a hissing challenge before charging.

"Incendio!" A voice called from the side as Williamson finally arrived.

The creature's coat ignited and engulfed the monster is a roaring fireball, but didn't halt it as the thing loomed down on the shocked Harry.

XX No. 2 The Grigori Apartments; Sunnydale California (1996) XX

… _With You To The Hard Land Of The Winter. Her Name Is Aphrodite And She Rides A Crimson Shell, And You Know You Cannot Leave Her For You Touched The Distant Sands. With Tales Of Brave Ulysses, How His Naked Ears Were Tortured…_

Rupert Giles groaned as his alarm clock kicked in and began playing the local Classic Rock station. Rubbing at his eyes and then patting his bedside locker for his glasses the forty-something year old checked the time and wondered why he'd set the alarm for so early… Oh right, first day of term.

"Whoever thought it a brilliant idea to stick a school over the Hellmouth should be shot." Giles muttered as he tapped the OFF button and get out of bed. The Watcher's Council had decided he would be taking over from Jonathan Rabbit, the man they had placed in Sunnydale overseeing the Hellmouth for years, not long ago and paid for him to be sent out. Even arranged for him to get the recently vacated position of librarian, werewolf attack if what Rabbit had said was correct… Mostly to keep him out of the way.

Rupert Giles may have been one of their best researchers and a leading expert on many magical fields, but he was also a recovering magic addict and former demon summoner… Add those last two to the fact he wasn't from any of the old 'Watcher bloodlines', in actuality coming from a society the Watcher's Council had strained dealings with at the best of times, and it was a miracle he was trusted with anything at all. That he'd once punched Travers while both had been in training most likely didn't help much either.

Stepping in under the steaming hot water of the shower fixture the old bathtub came with Giles let the hot water wash away the knot of tension his dreams, memories, had dragged up. As he wiped the mirror of condensation following his shower, Giles took stock. Messy black hair that thankfully was partly manageable these days, check. Deep and intense jade coloured eyes, lacking the life and lustre they had held in his youth but check. Scar marring his forehead, mostly hidden by time and wrinkles but still there… The tattoo that cost him a dear friend, always a reminder.

Selecting a brown tweed suit, often called his signature back in London and the result of a bet from his training days, Giles dressed for his first day and set off. His 1963 Citroën DS certainly stood out as he crossed the town and pulled into the staff car park of Sunnydale High School. Retrieving his briefcase from the backseat Giles locked the car and turned, only to all but bump into a short bespectacled man.

"Oh eh, pardon me." Giles said as the man stumbled back. "I, eh, didn't see you there."

" No, no. My fault." The man other man said kindly before expending his hand. "Going by your accent, I take it you're our now Librarian? A Mr. Guyles, correct?"

"Giles, the 'G' is pronounced as if it were a 'J'." Giles corrected as he adjusted his grip on the briefcase to shake hands. "And you might be…?"

"Ah, Robert Flutie. The principal here at Sunnydale High." The man boasted proudly as he released Giles' hand to gesture at the school behind them. "We spoke on the phone, about a week ago."

"A Principal Flutie. Yes, yes I'm sorry. Bad phone connection when we spoke, didn't recognise your voice." Giles backtracked and covered, wouldn't do for Flutie to realise it was an entirely different man who had conducted the phone interview. "So very good to speak face to face."

"Yes, yes it is. And call me Bob." Flutie smiled as he set off for the school, beckoning for Giles to follow. "Well come on, I can give you a quick tour before the students arrive. I'm sure you're very anxious to see where you'll be working."

"Please." Giles said, pumping as much fake cheer as he could into his words.

XX Sunnydale High Library; Sunnydale, California (Three Months Later) XX

Rupert Giles; British Expat, somewhat respected Watcher and none-practising wizard was almost positive he could have every single book in the library replaced with the unabridged and uncensored works of the Marquis de Sade and not one student in the entire school would notice. Madam Pince would have loved it. The library proved so underused Giles had taken to storing all the reference books and mystical guides he didn't have space for in his apartment over in the mostly empty book cage.

Sitting in his small office and brewing a pot of tea Giles' phone began to ring, breaking the mind numbing monotony of working in the library. Setting aside his copy of the Book of Kelsor, it had some very in-depth research on the Lorophage Demons that Giles was determined to commit to memory, and picking up the receiver he was shocked to hear Quentin Travers of all people on the other line.

"Ahh Giles, good that I caught you." The current head of the Watcher's Council said. "You remember Merrick, died there in L.A there a while back."

"Merrick… Merrick… Oh Merrick, yes." Giles went on before remembering just who they were talking about. "Killed by Lothos… Wasn't he the Watcher assigned to the current Slayer at the time?"

"Indeed." Travers said as if the death of a fellow Watcher had absolutely no impact on him. "Well after his death the Slayer managed to kill Lothos, a large number of his followers as well actually."

"From what I'd heard of the man, Merrick was a gruff but effective Watcher… The girl's success is evidence of that." Giles said before deciding to cut the pleasant chat to a close. "Now… Why have you called me Quentin? I doubt it was to reminisce about a Watcher neither of us ever met in person."

"Your right, I called about the Slayer." Travers told him. "After she killed Lothos and his vampires by setting her school's gymnasium on fire, the girl justified it by saying vampires where inside."

"Oh dear… Really?" Giles groaned, using his free hand to remove his glasses and then pinch the bridge of his nose. Nothing good had ever come from honesty when Slayers happened to be involved.

"The Slayer was taken in for 'psychological evaluation'." The words came out with such venom Giles could swear the only justification was that they had killed Travers' entire family. "The parents are divorcing and the mother is moving to, of all places, Sunnydale… Congratulations Mr. Giles, you are now the Slayer's Watcher!"

 _ **XXXXX**_

 _ **I originally had a completely different idea for this pitch, with it following Harry as he went from Auror-In-Training to Ripper but a few things happened during the writing… 1) I realised that showing bits and pieces here and there while using the flashbacks to flush Giles' past out over time would seem closer to the source. 2) Almost the second I started writing this my mind skipped a beat and all I could think of is the DMC Devil May Cry crossover idea I did a scene for a while back [seriously, I've gone from clichéd Harry gets powers and curbstomps everyone to detailed and interesting plot that has several subplots and interesting developments for many characters].**_

 _ **The Highgate Vampire mistake, the Lorophage Demon [bug thing Harry fought] and kids killed by it all are taken from the**_ _ **Daddy Issues storyline of the**_ _ **Angel & Faith comic series. Those events occurred in flashbacks to Giles' time as a trainee Watcher. How this encounter shapes Harry's life, leads to trouble and split between himself & Ginny, him leaving the Magical World and finally meeting Ethan Rayne to be revealed.**_

 _ **I'm dyslexic, so please point out any mistakes in the spelling or grammar [I use the Irish/English spelling structure, so some may look off to Americans]. Please leave opinions and comments via review or PM, I can't improve without feedback. Well, that's everything I've got to say… Thanks for reading.**_

 _ **Highvalour saying thanks for reading.**_


	6. Rough ideas for Legacy scenes

**_Rough, very rough, drafts of scenes I'd envisioned for Legacy First scene is Harry back in England on Christmas Eve after spending a year and a half in the U.S.A following the event in Los Angeles… And boy has he changed, mostly for the worst [Early draft, subject to revision and improvement when actual story catches up]._**

 ** _Second follows on from the first and then cuts ahead a few weeks, popping in on the Order of the Phoenix._**

 ** _Like always, I really need feedback on these so I can find out what people like/dislike and so I can work out what areas I need to improve on. So please, review. Another chapter, another attempt to entertain you all. I honestly do not have anything else to add, so on with the show!_**

 ** _'Harry Potter' belongs to J K Rowling._**

 ** _'Legacy of Kain' belongs to Crystal Dynamics._**

 ** _XXXXX_**

XX Godric's Hollow (December '97) XX

The Barge Inn was the quintessential British village pub; comprised of one small, very dirty, and dingy room with bay windows so encrusted with filth that you can barely see through them. The place was filled with rough wooden tables and an even rougher bar along the back wall. The owner and proprietor, a miserable old bat that looked like she had hag blood in her somewhere, had been eying him all night with that look of 'you are not from around here, you are suspicious'.

' _Decrepit old bint'._ Harry thought as he finished off his pint of cheap and bitter beer. Although, if he was honest, he most look a sight with his matted grey hair and sickly pale skin. His battered jacket over worn t-shirt and dirt stained jeans really added to the 'creepy drifter' look he'd picked up after his little chat with that asshole in LA. Glaring back Harry slowly found his eyes dropping to her exposed, and veiny, neck. Quickly scanning the room, and confirming he was the only one left, Harry rose and made his way over to the bar as common thoughts ran through his head. _'Reach across, snatch and suck... Bite deep, let shock stop the screams… Haven't eaten in hours, feed and enjoy.'_

"Another?" The crone snapped when he set his glass down and glared at her.

"No… Not thirsty for drink." Harry panted as he eyed her neck, the rough lower class accent he'd adapted while in hiding giving his voice a far more menacing tone then he'd intended. Tearing his eyes away and trying to focus, Harry got back to what he'd come to this crappy village for. "Where's the graveyard from here?"

"Out there, hang a right an' then a left. End of the road." The barkeep said, pointing a bony hand at the door then jerking her thumb in the directions to illustrate. "Bit late to be paying respects, ain't it?"

"Never too late to pay dues to the dead." Harry muttered as he rooted through his pockets for something to distract from the cravings. Finding a battered pack of cigarettes he let out a sigh of relief and stuck the last of them into his mouth. Pointing with his thumb to the cigarette, Harry mumbled 'got a light?'.

"There..." the woman snapped, tossing Harry a box of matches. "… Now get out, we're closing."

Turning without a word of thanks and making his way for the door, pausing only to grab his bag as he passed his table, Harry stepped out into the gentle snowfall. After having two matches extinguished by the snow, and another snap on him, Harry managed to get his cigarette lit allowing the nicotine rush to temporarily numb the cravings for blood. The fact that the smoke dulled his sense of smell as well was a welcome bonus.

Trudging down the empty streets, paying little attention to the world around him as he went, Harry made his way to the old church and its cemetery. Snapping the padlock that kept the gates securely shut and pushing the heavy iron gates open, Harry made his way through the ancient resting place of countless muggles and magic users. Making his way to the graves from a decade and a half ago, following the pull of his grave, Harry soon stood before a simple tombstone.

 _Here lies Harry James Potter,_

 _July 30, 1980 – October 31, 1981_

 _Lost but loved,_

 _Gone but not forgotten._

"Gone but not forgotten." Harry snorted as he finished off his cigarette, snuffing the butt out on top of the tombstone. A quick glance at the stone told a different story. The engraving was old and worn, faded by time and rain. The snow barely covered the weeds and growth which had sprung up around the tombstone and Harry's footprints provided the only disturbances in the snow around it. Dropping his bag to the ground and struggling for a minute with the zipper Harry managed to retrieve a small wreath that he set on the grave. Satisfied that his grave no longer looked so desolate Harry brushed some of the snow away and dug his fingers into the cold, hard earth to snatch up a handful of soil. Holding the soil in a clenched fist, Harry let it revitalise him partly. "The soil of my grave provides me respite."

Brushing the dirt from his hand once he was finished at his grave Harry picked up his bag and moved onward, back towards the church and village proper. Stepping over the discarded chain and broken lock as he left the cemetery Harry nearly walked right into a couple who'd been passing.

"Sorry pet." Harry said as he lightly bumped the woman. She was pretty enough, golden hair and green eyes although her dark roots where beginning to show. Her clothes looked recent and expensive, although Harry noted that they were far to light for this kind of weather. The man, boyfriend most likely since neither wore a ring, had on older clothes. The dodgy denim, plus his bleached mullet, screamed of a man stunk in a decade with poorer fashion. The man eyed Harry wearily, silently debating with himself about something. Whatever it was that was going on in the man's head mattered little to Harry, at least until the man spoke.

"Forget it mate, it's all good." He said in a thick Liverpudlian accent before pulling his girl closer and moving on.

Watching the pair leave Harry took several deep breaths. Even with his smell dulled from the earlier smoke he caught a familiar scent that reminded Harry just who the man had been. Snarling with hatred, and deciding the rest of his business in the village could wait, Harry chucked his bag back into the cemetery and took off after the pair. Harry turned the corner after them just in time to see Bobby pin the girl to the wall and latch onto her neck.

"Hello bobby." Harry snarled as his fist collided with the side of Bobby's head and knocked him back.

"The hell? You hit like a truck… The hell are you?" Bobby yelped as he staggered back and reached up to dab at the busted skin.

"Those ridges aren't to impressive now, are they Bobby?" Harry mocked in reference to the distorted forehead Bobby's 'vamp-face' possessed while Bobby wiped at the blood that was running down into his eye.

"Do I know you?" Bobby asked in confusion, apparently unable to place Harry due to the fake accent.

"You don't remember me Bobby? I'm hurt." Harry laughed, cold and cruel, as the old arrogance and sophistication seeped back into his voice. A soft growl from behind tipped Harry off that he'd gotten things wrong as the girl, another vampire it seemed, lunged at him. Turning and catching her by the throat Harry lifted the girl off her feet and, while keeping an eye on Bobby in case of attack, pulled a small stake from his pocket. Driving the stake into her heart and catching a handful of her dust Harry turned back to Bobby and blew the dust away. "Your friend should have known better then to attack me."

"Y-You… Hehe, you-your 'Kain'. Hahaha." Bobby sniggered as be stuck his hands in his pockets. It was interesting to see, the sudden change from concern and uncertainty to cockiness once Bobby remembered him… Harry would have to wipe that smirk right off his face. "You're back, that's brave. I mean, we did send you running like a little dog. Hehe, back to die little fake?"

"You did nothing, Bobby. It was those Order of Aurelius sycophants you sided with that forced me back." Harry corrected as the two squared off, slowly circling and watching for an opening. "Speaking of which, how is that little Chinese tart anyway?"

"Japanese, she's Japanese." Bobby corrected as his eyes flickered between Harry and the surrounding area, searching for something. "And she's great, everything's great. Order's big, and I'm big up in it. Screwing you and you BS 'messiah' crap was the best move I ever made."

"Really? I could have sworn that those cavern dwelling, demon worshippers had standards… Standards you just would not measure up to." Harry said just as several pops sounded around him and Bobby as a group of witches and wizards Apparated in. `

"What's this?" One of the wizards, a tall black man with a thick cockney accent snapped at Bobby once he'd looked Harry over. "Told you to stay put and call if Potter showed."

"Y-Yeah I know, b-but this guy is the one who tried to organise the vampires against The Dark Lord." Bobby stuttered, pointing at Harry in case there was some confusion about who he was referring too. "I-I thought that'd fetch a good price, someone who'd tried to rally an army… You know."

"Ha, haha, Hahaha… Oh this is simply amazing." Harry laughed, his voice startling some of the wizards. "First you betray me to the Order, whom I presume have since discarded you now that My army is there's to command, and now you serve Voldemort's lackies… Hahaha, you really are pathetic Bobby, you know that."

No sooner had Harry finished laughing then more pops heralded the arrival of another group of wizards. They began arguing with the first to arrive about who got the bounty for him, the first claiming they'd seen him first while the second argued he'd triggered some kind of taboo and so was there bounty to collect. Flashing a feral grin at Bobby and letting out an animalistic snarl Harry lunged at the closest wizard and dragged his short claw-like nails across the unfortunate man's throat.

 _ **XXXXX**_

XX Godric's Hollow; Somerset, England (23rd December '97)

Harry licked the still warm blood from his fingers, savouring the taste. He hadn't been able to feed regularly since arriving back in the UK and it was starting to bother him. Looking from the terrified Bobby to the thirteen corpses that littered the street Harry let a smile creep across his face, a smile that must have looked downright demonic with the blood stains around his mouth and the bits of flesh stuck between his teeth.

Kneeling down and checking the arm of a corpse Harry found a slowly fading Dark Mark. A quick check of a few more of those Bobby had summoned showed all possessed that bastard's mark, although none of the second group had been branded.

"Interesting." Harry whispered before turning out the corpses' pockets.

"Y-You're robbing them?" Bobby spluttered as he just stood where Harry had left him before the bloodbath had started.

"They don't need it, now shut up and stay still… Try running and I'll rip your head off." Harry snarled as he pocketed the coins and potions while snapping the wands, no magic meant no need for them. "You report to Death Eaters now, do you Bobby? … Well? Oh for crying out loud, you can talk when I ask you a question."

"Oh, oh yeah… Something happened a few months back, near the beginning of summer, and most of the Order took off." Bobby said, trying to keep the fear out of his voice. "Everything splintered; Makimura is the only one still sticking to their ways… Rest set off for America, with the wizards out searching hunting proved to be a risk. So eh, so I decided that with the Order in the shitter I'd offer my services to the Ministry… You know, sign on and get the blood packs."

"What, found that actually hunting was too tough for you?" Harry snorted before finishing with the last body. "And you said the Ministry is looking for something?"

"Not something, someone. Word is Darren Potter is wanted for questioning in relation to Dumbledore's death." Bobby explained. "That's what those guys I called were doing, looking for the lunatic."

"You called Death Eaters, not Ministry officials." Harry pointed out.

"Same thing these days." Bobby laughed before a glare made him shut up. "Word between those in the know is that You-Know-Who runs the show… Even got a Taboo on his name, that's what called the Snatchers."

"Snatchers these markless idiots I just snacked on?" Harry asked before deciding to swap his now stained and shredded jacket for one of the less ornate robes a Snatcher had died in.

"Yeah, they track down anyone who breaks the taboo and a few others as well." Bobby said as helpfully as he could. Bobby may be a 'soulless monster' but he had self-preservation instincts and they were screaming to not provoke the 'True Vampire' in case he ended up like the luckless humans scattered around the deserted street. "They track down Muggleborns who've dodged the registration and anyone who supports Potter… Few people who speak out against the Ministry may or may not have been snatched up as well."

"And everyone is okay with this?" Harry asked as Bobby's comments brought to mind something he'd read written about the muggle side of the Grindelwald War. "…First they came for the communists, and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a communist."

"Wha?" Was Bobby's cultured reply.

"Just musing on how muggles and magics aren't so different after all." Harry sighed before punching Bobby in the face.

"Gah! What was that for?" Bobby whimpered as he held his bloody nose.

"Keeping you motivated." Harry said with a shrug before holding up a shard of wand. "Now, what was that about muggleborns and registration?"

XX 12 Grimmauld Place; London, England (January '98) XX

The majority of the Order of the Phoenix sat in the dirty and depressing kitchen of their 'headquarters'. Sirius Black and the Lupins sipped at steaming cups of tea while Lily Potter idly stirred at her own. Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody took occasional mouthfuls from his hip flask and Mundungus 'Dung' Fletcher idly scanned the room for anything that'd fit in his pockets. All present listened as Kingsley Shacklebolt reported on the latest rash of attacks against muggles and abductions by the Snatchers.

"How many dead in total?" Moody asked, deciding he didn't want to hear all the details once Kingsley mentioned one of the families had small kids.

"Seventeen muggles died over the weekend." Kingsley sighed. You-Know-Who was trying to draw them out, deliberately telegraphing his attacks in the hopes of drawing them out so his Death Eaters could kill or capture them. "Three muggleborns where captured as well."

"That's down on last week." Nymphadora 'Tonks' Lupin noted, trying to find the silver lining in one very grey cloud.

"And on the week before that." Sirius added. "In fact, over the last three weeks the number of Snatcher actions have dropped a lot… maybe people are finally waking up and smelling the Dark Marks?"

"Not likely." Dung snorted

"If you know something, talk!" Moody growled, glaring with his one good eye while the other whizzed around to focus on the kitchen door.

"Muggles pulled three bodies from the river Sunday morning… All of them in 'period dress'." Dung noted with a small smile at the idea of dead Snatchers, he was an amoral thief but he'd never hand another man in for coin. "From what I hear all three had their faces and necks savaged like an animal got them, all three have no known records and they had nothing of value in their pockets… Sound familiar?"

"Godric's Hollow… They sound like the bodies found before Christmas in Godric's Hollow." Remus answered before resting his head in his hands. "Any evidence linking vampires to this one?"

"Muggles don't look for that, yeah know." Dung said before reaching into one of his pockets and dropping a small gold signet ring onto the table. "I got that off a fence of mine in Knockturn, belongs to one of the Morgan's… Wanna guess who one of those stiffs I mentioned looks like?"

"This fence of yours remember who sold it?" Sirius asked.

"Pale, stuck to the shadows… Yellow eyes." Dung admitted, leaning forward to look down at Sirius. "Wore muggle clothes, kinda dirty and looked like a muggle hobo. But the face eh, the way he was described… Sounded like Black."

"Like Sirius?"

"No, the kid." Dung told them causing a very vocal argument to break out.

While the argument in the kitchen grew another row was building in the front room between Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger in relation to the possible locations and forms of You-Know-Who's Horcruxes.

"According to Dumbledore Hogwarts was the only place he ever really felt at home." Ron argued. "And Dumbledore told Darren that You-Know-Who was making Horcruxes outta important things, makes sense he'd hide one at the place most important to him."

"There is no way Dumbledore would allow something that dark and twisted into the school, he'd and found and destroyed it long ago!" Hermione countered, dismissing his argument.

"Like he, or anyone, found the Chamber of Secrets?!" Ron challenged bitterly. "Hell one's probably down there, locked away and never to be seen again."

"Ron I... I didn't..." Hermione began slowly before turning to the other occupant of the room. "What do you think Darren? Could there be one at Hogwarts?"

Darren Potter, the 'Boy-Who-Lived' and Magical Britain's Undesirable No. 1, looked up from the locket he'd been ideally playing with. He was convinced this locket, the hunt for which had inadvertently aided in Dumbledore's demise, was the key to finding Slytherin's Locket. He'd shown it to the Order but, apart from a joke from Sirius about it looking like something his grandmother might have worn, nothing had come form it... Tracking down the mysterious 'RAB' was also fruitless since they had no idea where to even start. Realising this wasn't one of those 'ask but not expect an answer' questions Darren swallowed and gave his view.

"I guess it's possible... I mean the memories of the orphanage didn't look very inviting so Hogwarts might have been the first place he felt happy." Darren sighed as he tucked the locket back into his pocket. "But if he did, then what did he hide there? Was it Hufflepuff's cup or something of Ravenclaw's?"

"It wouldn't be Hufflepuff's cup; someone would have recognised an item of a Founder." Hermione argued resetting the argument about hiding items in Hogwarts.

Deciding not to get dragged into what he thought wasn't the most important matter at hand Darren Walked to the large windows and looked out onto the street. Across the street, leaning against the railings and looking very menacing, stood a pair of Death Eaters. A pair had been outside the house, day or night, since Sirius and Lily had set up a Fidelius Charm to hide them... Shielding them from attack but alerting the Death Eaters since now none amongst the ranks you think of the Black's ancient home. Turning away at what he'd thought was his name being called when Darren looked out again he found that the Death Eaters had vanished.

"What time is it?" Darren asked as he cracked open the window and looked out, the Fidelius Charm extended several inches out letting him do so without risking a curse to the head.

"About twenty past ten, why?" Ron asked after checking his watch.

"Death Eaters are gone." Darren said before he noticed someone was watching the house, or at least its space. Dressed in muggle clothes, jeans and a hooded jacket, the figure was a few doors up on the other side... But seemed to be focused directly on Darren. "Guys, someone's watching us."

"Nonsense Darren, we're inside the Fidelius." Hermione pointed out as she joined him in looking out.

"No, no he can see us." Darren insisted. "Look, he reacted when you joined me. He can see us!"

"What are you talking about, We're under the charm so no one can see us." Hermione insisted, although she had seen the figure react and was worried. "W-we should tell the others that the Death Eaters are gone."

"Y-yeah." Darren agreed as he shut the window and backed away from it.

Seeing that neither Darren nor Ron was making a move Hermione 'huffed' and left to tell the Order. Her knuckles had barely rapped on the kitchen door before she heard Darren yell and both boys thunder out of the front room and down the hall.

"Stop! What are you doing?! Where are you going!?" Hermione yelled once she realised they were going for the front door. Running as fast as she could to catch, and stop, them Hermione didn't hear Tonks when the older witch stuck her head out of the kitchen to see what was wrong. Rushing up the hall, and nearly colliding with Ron, Hermione began yelling at the boys in what Darren and Ron both referred to as her 'angry teacher tone'. "What are you doing outside? What if the Death Eaters strike?! Get back inside now!"

"But he… I… How could he…?" Darren muttered as he turned in circles, searching the empty street for something or someone.

"Potter!" Moody bellowed as he and the rest of the Order came storming up the hall behind Hermione. "What the blazes do you think you're doing?! In! Now!"

Darren ignored the order and just stood there, still searching for something.

"There mate." Ron said, pointing to a small white envelope lying near number eleven's door.

Ignoring Moody and Lily as they told him to get back inside Darren walked to and picked up the envelope. Tearing it open and plucking out the letter within Darren read what had been left. When he was done, he held out the piece of paper for Lily to take.

"Darren what's wrong? Why are you…?" Lily asked as she took the letter and read.

"I saw under his hood as he passed the window." Darren explained as he moved to step inside. "Saw his eyes."

"What is it? What's it say?" Sirius asked Lily as he tried to read the letter over her shoulder.

 _What the hell are you doing in my home?!_

 _ **XXXXX**_

 _ **I'm dyslexic, so please point out any mistakes in spelling or grammar [I spell things the way they do in England and Ireland, so some things may look off to Americans]. Please leave your opinion via review or send them via PM, I'd like to know what you think. Well, I think that's everything I've gotta say so, hope you enjoyed the chapter.**_

 _ **This is Highvalour saying bye and thanks for reading.**_


	7. Witch Hunter Idea

_**I dunno where this idea came from – maybe it's a corruption of a different idea I have or something, honestly don't know.**_

 _ **Read, Review, let me know what works and doesn't.**_

 _ **All Intellectual Properties Belong To Their Rightful Owners**_

 _ **XXXXX**_

XX Alchemist's Quarter, Prague; Czech Republic XX

Prague was a beautiful city. Full of culture and beauty and since the collapse of the USSR that beauty had only seemed to grow and flourish as it caught up with the 'Western World'… At least on the muggle side of things.

On the wizarding side, things had been growing worse and worse ever since the Iron Curtain fell. Like Britain, and the rest of the world, the countries of Eastern Europe all had pureblood families. And like the rest of the world many of these families tended to look down on muggles and muggleborns… unlike most other countries, where apathy or glaring loopholes in laws often allowed these purebloods to show how much they looked down on the muggles, the pureblood families behind the Iron Curtain could do nothing for fear of retaliation.

You see the former Eastern Bloc nations could, through their link with Moscow, call upon the Petersburg Accord of 1914 – a deal where Tsar Nicolas II gained the cooperation of the War-Mages of Omsk. The witches and wizards, part scholar/part soldier, from the Ashen Tower of Omsk dedicated themselves to mastering combat magic. Unbound by notions of blood superiority, motivated solely by the belief that potential should be nurtured, the war-mages had bartered their support and protection of Russia for the promise of forced cultural changes to Russia's wizarding society. Even when the war ended, and the tsar they had signed the accord with was killed, the war-mages had awaited the cultural reforms.

And when Joseph Stalin found himself staring out at the armies of Grindelwald and the crazed Dark Lord's muggle puppets he'd known exactly where to find magic users to defend Russia, and what to grant them in exchange for their support. Dumbledore may have been the man who defeated Grindelwald himself, but it was the war-mages under Malinovsky who broke the man.

With the Tower of Omsk backing him, the pureblood families of Eastern Europe could do little to stop Stalin as he ensured that each new communist state had complete control over all magical governing bodies. This meant a considerable level of protection for muggles and plenty of opportunities for muggleborns while the USSR was around but, once the union dissolved, the newly formed muggle governments found themselves unable to keep the old pureblood families from retaking control over the magical communities and severing all but the most basic of contact with them.

Since the fall of the Soviet Union, Eastern Europe had seen a steady growth in anti-muggle attitude as bigots lashed out after finally being freed from those oppressive laws making them treat muggles like something that had a right to exist. Add in the influx of British witches and wizards, all either former snatchers or Death Eaters fleeing Ministry justice following Voldemort's defeat, and things just continued to get worse.

In fact had it not been for the Malleus Maleficarum, independent magic users who offered their services to the governments most often in exchange for monetary compensation. The Hammers, as they more often than not were called, operated alone or in very small groups. They employed tactics similar to the kind used by supremacist groups like the Knights of Walpurgis, extreme savagery with little regard for the lives of purebloods, against those very same supremacists and their families. This often earned the Hammers the hatred and fear of the Darker Families while the Albus Dumbledores of the world opposed them for 'fighting fire with fire' methods.

But despite the hostility from all sides of the magical world the Hammers did what they did, each motivated by his or her own goal. Everyone with their own purpose for raising their wands wizards in defence of muggles.

Some did it because it was the right thing to do, because if they didn't stand up for the weak than who would? Others did it for the money the muggle governments would often be more than happy to pay for the peace of mind a dead bigot brought. A few did it for no reason other than their own sadism, truly being little better than the bigots they killed… And for a few the reason was simply penance.

 _ **X**_

Jiri, at nineteen, was the assistant postmaster in Prague. He hadn't been a terribly good student, having managed to get by on his above average potions skills and passible Charms work. He'd never been considered particularly clever or smart, having wasted much of his time reading magazines about Quidditch instead of studying. Hence why he was sitting behind the desk in Prague's post-station, dividing his time between listening to the Wizards' Wireless, reading the sports section of the Slovakian Seer – it had better reports on the Bulgarian League, and occasionally sorting letters or parcels for people without owls.

Hell the most interesting thing to happen all month to Jiri was the strange muggle dressed English man who'd started coming in every other day about two weeks ago – and even then the man had only been interesting for how he was dressed. A plain muggle suit (trousers, jacket and shirt) worn under a big, heavy canvas coat and matching wide brimmed hat almost made him look like one of those 'cattlemen' from those movies Jiri's muggleborn girlfriend loved to watch.

Of course the novelty of the man wore off the third time he came in and did the exact same thing – Exchange some muggle koruna for galleons, always exactly one hundred, and have them portkeyed to Britain's central post station in London – every single time.

"Nasty business that." Jiri commented as he read the headline on the paper the English man set on the counter. "Heard he was tortured, with dark magic… What did he do to deserve that?"

"Abducted and tortured muggles alongside his friends." The English man answered matter of factly, in very good if somewhat accented Czech, as he set out bundle after bundle of korunas. "Ministry covered it up, memory modifying the survivors and disappearing the bodies… Been doing it for months."

"W-What?" Jiri gasped, choking on his chilled pumpkin juice.

"Been in the papers, muggles reporting disappearances and magics commenting on the string of 'muggle baiting'. The English man told him as he set out the last bundle. "Right, that should enough for a hundred galleons."

Taking the bundles and setting them on a set of enchanted scales, to double-check they came to one hundred galleons, Jiri worked quickly in an effort to get the suddenly very unnerving man out of the post station. As he counted out the galleons, and the English man wrote the address he wanted the owl in England to deliver the galleons to, the door opened and Jiri couldn't suppress his groan.

Tomik Teply was one of the local pureblood fanatics. He and his little gang liked to get together, get drunk and then engage in a little muggle baiting – creating illusions to startle or shock some poor muggle out at night or cast the Muggle Repelling Charm on the entrance to a muggle apartment building to make life difficult for the occupants. For the most part Jiri had just ignored their antics, and been thankfully ignored by them, up until about a month ago. Then Teply had learned Jiri was dating a muggleborn and started to get nasty.

Nothing violent but there were comments. Jokes and jibes about her, crude innuendo and several 'talks' on the dangers of dating a muggleborn. Needless to say, with the English man here dressed in his funny muggle clothes, Teply and his gang were the last people Jiri wanted walking into the post station.

Picking up his pace, preparing the portkey and collecting the change – the English man always paid the one galleon, five sickles charge with two galleons - before they were asked for. Anything to get the mostly likely muggleborn out of here and away from Teply before trouble started.

"Hey Jiri, my package come in yet?" Teply asked as he slapped his hands down on the counter, his gang spreading out but causing no major trouble… for the moment.

"No, and I can't make it go any faster." Jiri replied curtly, hoping if he answered all the crap Teply normally said quick enough the man would leave before starting anything. "And I don't know what's delaying it. Write Spudmore and ask what's taking so long."

"You know, you really need to work on your customer service." Teply growled before turning to the English man. "I mean it's just rude, right?"

The English man glanced at Teply, then down to the back of Teply's right hand. There was a large, ugly tattoo of a skull superimposed over three curved spikes – the skin around it still red and raw from its application.

"Hey friend, I asked you a question." Teply snapped, reaching up and lightly rapping his knuckles on the English man's arm.

"He doesn't speak Czech." Jiri said quickly as he took the English man's two galleons and gave back the change.

"Oh, a tourist eh?" Teply laughed, a cruel smirk on his face. "Tu parle français? … oder vielleicht Deutsch? … English?"

"I understand all three, and more." The English man replied in Czech as he removed his hat and ran a hand through his hair. "Where did you get that Mark, by the way?"

"W-What?" The question throw Teply a bit.

"The Mark on your arm, who gave it to you?" The English man demanded to know, a wand silently slipping into his hand from his sleeve. "I recognise it, just don't know whose Mark it is."

Now Jiri didn't know anything about the tattoo, seeing as how he paid little attention to the news, and so he failed to recognise it as the suspected symbol of an up and coming Dark Lord. As such he failed to come to the same conclusion as Teply did.

"Hamm-!" That was as far as Teply got before a wordless stunner slammed into his chest and he crumbled like a puppet with its strings cut.

"Hide." That was all the English man said as he turned, conjuring a slab of stone as cover, to fight Teply's gang.

Jiri didn't need telling twice, diving down and scurrying on all fours for the post station's back room. Slamming the door behind him Jiri hid for a moment as the sounds of battle raged outside. Taking several deep breaths to build up the courage Jiri peeked out through the small window set into the door.

The first thing Jiri noticed was that someone had sealed the doors with some kind of curse, a mass of ethereal webbing had formed over the post station's only exit. Next Jiri noticed that the stone slab was gone, though the cluster of smashed wall panels and bits of rock embedded in the wall showed where it went. The third thing he saw was that one of Teply's gang was missing – although if he'd escaped or been downed by the English man wasn't clear.

Speaking of the English man, he was holding his own. Using his wand to counter or deflect hexes and curses while he cast spells, wandlessly and wordlessly with his off hand, he seemed to be holding so own against the trio of angry magic users.

"Flagelluinfernos " screeched the one witch, Jiri wasn't sure but he thought her name was Marketa, as she brought her wand down in a slashing motion. A 'hell whip', a derivative of the fiendfire spell, sprang from her wand forcing the English man to abandon his position.

The look on the English man's face was one of pure rage and hatred as he looked from the spell to the caster.

"Gaanail!" The English man snarled levelling his wand at the witch.

What looked like a Bubble-Head Charm appeared around Marketa's head just before the witch dropped her wand, killing the Hell Whip, and clawed at her throat silently gasping. Advancing on the two remaining wizards the English man left dropped his defensive style, casting both from his wand and hand he began pushing both back with his ferocity.

Forced back one of the wizards got a little too close to the seal on the door and was sent flying ass over head by a pulse of magical energy. Enraged by seeing his friends beaten the last of Teply's gang let out a scream of fury and fired off a Killing Curse at the English man.

Jiri ducked away from the door as the sickly green light of the spell impacted against it. Two more times the Killing Curse was cast before the English man countered with a spell Jiri didn't know.

"Sectumsempra!"

A gargled scream, a thud and then silence. Paralysed with fear Jiri just hid there in the back room praying it was over. When the English man opened the door, an unconscious body thrown over a shoulder, Jiri let out a very girlish shriek of terror.

"Here, should go somewhat towards fixing this place up." The English man said as he tossed a money pouch at Jiri's feet. "… You should probably contact the Aurors or something."

With that he turned, seeming to deliberately crack his cargo's head of the doorframe, and left.

 _ **XXXXX**_

 _ **Think I've worked out what this came from, Draco's planned fate in Legacy. I'd intended for a shamed and disillusioned Draco to leave the UK at some point and become a monster hunter – as training towards an attempt to kill Harry – only to come face to face to the kinds of horrors muggles face from the magical world (Dark Witches/Wizards and attacks from monster) and ends up becoming what Lockhart pretended to be.**_

 _ **The English man, and the Hammers in general, are something of an expansion on this idea. The Hammers are modelled on the Hunters from Supernatural. The English man is a former Death Eater, one who'd risen high enough to receive the Dark mark, who now tracks down and kills Dark Witches/Wizards as a way to repent for what he'd done during the Second War. His suit is a shout out to Constantine's look in the early Hellblazer comics [before the trenchcoat brigade look was finalised] while the canvas duster and hat are lifted straight from the cover of Storm Front [the first book of the Dresden Files].**_

 _ **Wrote this because I haven't written anything in the HP universe for a while and wanted to try and get back into the swing of it. Hopefully I'll be updating this collection more often in the future.**_

 _ **Original Spells;**_

Flagelluinfernos _**\- Derived from the Fiendfyre curse, creates a whip of cursed flames from the tip of the casting wand. While not as powerful as Firendfyre it is much easier to control.**_

Gaanail **_\- Old, obscure Irish curse that creates a airless bubble around the target's head. Can only be ended by its verbal cunter-curse. May or may not be linked to the Bubble-Head Charm._**  


 _ **I'm dyslexic, so please point out any mistakes in spelling or grammar [I spell things the way they do in England and Ireland, so some things may look off to Americans]. Please leave your opinion via review or send them via PM, I'd like to know what you think. Well, I think that's everything I've gotta say so, hope you enjoyed the chapter.**_

 _ **This is Highvalour saying bye and thanks for reading.**_


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